Game Over No Second Chances novel Chapter 2

This time, Wendy's message contained no words, only a photo.

It was a photo of Zach asleep.

He was lying behind Wendy, his arms wrapped around her, holding her close as he slept soundly.

Wendy had a shy, demure smile on her face. Her lips were swollen, and the open collar of her nightgown revealed a trail of faint hickeys down her neck.

There was no need to guess what had happened last night.

Serena and Zach had been together for five years, yet they had never crossed that final line.

In the past, whenever Zach had struggled to hold back, he would pull her into his arms and murmur in a deep, husky voice, "Rena, can you grow up a little faster?"

Later on, he stopped holding her that way. He would simply coax her, saying they should wait until they were married.

She had always believed it was because he cherished her. Because he loved her.

But desire was also another form of love.

Serena stared at the photo, tears streaming down her face. It felt as if a piece of her heart had been ripped away, leaving a wound so deep it would never heal.

…

After breakfast, she went next door to the adjacent villa.

Crossing the specially built sky bridge, she stared at the carefully curated garden below. Despite the colorful flowers in full bloom, all she felt was emptiness.

These two villas had been bought in full after she and Zach closed a major deal together. The deed was in her name.

Zach had said everything he had belonged to her, so he had put them under her name. He had even hired a designer to create a shared garden and a connecting bridge between the two villas.

He had told her that if she ever got upset and wanted to go back to her parents' house, she could just move next door. That way, whenever he looked up, he would see her and feel at ease.

Now, she was right in front of him every day, yet he never looked at her the same way anymore.

She entered the passcode and pushed the door open. The spacious villa wasn't furnished for living but designed like an exhibition hall.

Inside, every display case housed a precious porcelain piece—Amber's life's work.

Years ago, Serena had carefully placed each piece inside, entrusting both herself and her future to Zach. But now, she would pack them up one by one and take back her future.

Her fingers traced the custom glass of a large display case. She paused in front of the largest one.

Unlike the others, these pieces weren't delicate or beautiful. Their shapes were uneven, rough, and slightly misshapen.

Every year, on the anniversary of Amber's passing, Zach would take her to a pottery studio to make one herself.

"Rena, don't be sad," he said. "Let's make something your mom loved. She'll know how much you miss her, and she'll know you're doing better and better."

Serena had never inherited Amber's talent. When she first started, she couldn't even shape a piece of clay properly.

Back then, Zach hadn't been the powerful CEO he was now. He hadn't had the wealth to indulge in a life of luxury.

She still remembered him slightly lowering his head, speaking softly to the studio owner, persuading them to let her stay as long as she needed so she could immerse herself in the craft and find peace.

As the years passed, her pottery improved. But the time and patience Zach had for her grew less and less.

She opened the display case and picked up the most beautiful hand-painted ceramic jar inside. Their names were written in artistic lettering on the jar, with a heart drawn between them. It looked childish.

She remembered that moment. Zach had held her hand, guiding her as they wrote their names together.

Overcome with emotion, he had kissed the tip of her ear. His deep voice carried a hint of laughter. "In your mom's eyes, we've already sealed the deal. You can't back out now, okay?"

Serena curled her lips into a self-deprecating smile. Everything she had treasured, every beautiful moment, had turned into nothing more than a cruel joke.

Her grip loosened and the ceramic jar slipped from her hand and shattered on the floor.

Like the memories she once held dear—fractured, scattered, gone with the wind.

…

By the time she finished packing everything into the moving trucks, it was already past 4:00 pm.

She called the real estate agent, signed the necessary paperwork, finalized the price, and instructed him to officially list the property the following Monday.