After delivering that remark, Serena turned on her heel and walked out, leaving the people in the private room exchanging stunned looks.
Someone broke the silence with an uneasy laugh. "Well, Serena's got a sense of humor, I guess."
"Don't take it to heart, Mr. Trevor. Sweet-talk her some other time, and she'll soften up."
Another person snorted in disdain. "Sweet-talk her? Why bother? Pamper women too much, and they'll just climb all over you."
"Enough." Trevor's expression turned frigid, their chatter scraping harshly against his patience.
Amber's chest tightened. Since when does Trevor side with that woman? While I was gone all those years, has Serena already replaced me?
She pressed her lips together, then spoke gently. "Trevor, if Serena's upset, I can apologize to her for you, okay?"
She reached out and lightly poked his waist with one finger, smiling playfully. "Don't be angry. Look at you—you're scaring everyone."
Back when they were younger, she loved teasing him like this under the table. Every single time, it worked.
As expected, the tension in his brows eased slightly. "I'm not angry. Amber, I wouldn't ever take my temper out on you because of someone else."
She lowered her eyes, looking shy and tender, a faint blush rising to her cheeks. "I know. I feel the same way, Trevor."
The group immediately started teasing them, and the heavy atmosphere Serena had left behind vanished in an instant.
...
Serena went straight to the residence that was supposed to become her home with Trevor, a wedding gift from his grandpa, Bryce Levine.
"Mrs. Levine, you're back?" The maid, Lucy Brown, sounded genuinely surprised. Weren't they supposed to register their marriage today? Why is only Mrs. Levine home?
Serena didn't respond and went straight upstairs. She had never truly settled in; all her belongings fit neatly into a single suitcase.
As she passed Trevor's study, her gaze landed on the tablet resting on his desk.
She remembered once wanting to watch a show on it. He had snapped at her for no apparent reason.
She had assumed he disliked people touching his things. Yet earlier that day, she had clearly seen Amber casually handling his phone.
Serena stepped into the study and tapped the screen.
A password prompt appeared.
Taking a steady breath, she entered his birthday.
It was incorrect.
She tried again, this time with her own birthday.
Still wrong.
For the third attempt, she recalled something she'd once heard about Amber—born in autumn, her name inspired by falling leaves. Serena quickly checked Amber's social media and confirmed her birthday was September 23.
Her fingers trembled as she typed in 0923. The screen unlocked instantly.
Bitterness rose in her throat.
The tablet contained no apps at all.
Following her instinct, she opened the photo gallery.
The warmth drained from her hands. There were 3,344 photos—every single one featuring Amber and Trevor.
Pictures of Amber alone. Pictures of the two of them together.
As for Serena, he had always avoided taking photos with her. The only image of them together was the formal wedding portrait hanging in the bedroom.
He'd claimed he disliked being photographed. Yet in these thousands of pictures, his smile was open and radiant, happier than she had ever seen him.
Serena shut the tablet, leaving the study as though she had never entered.
Lucy watched as the bride-to-be dragged a suitcase back downstairs, utterly confused. "Mrs. Levine, you just arrived. Are you heading out on another trip already?"
Knowing Serena was a lawyer who traveled frequently, Lucy naturally assumed it was work-related.
Serena paused briefly. "Yeah." Then, she walked out, her expression completely unreadable.
...
A whole day and night passed, and she hasn't sent me a single message. She's really getting bold.
A trip—or deliberately avoiding me?
His tone reassured Bryce. "Good. I'll have your father contact her. Since she's returned, she should come home. Trevor, regardless of who comes back, I want you and Serena to finalize your marriage soon. Do you understand?"
His gaze turned cold. "I understand."
After ending the call, he rubbed the bridge of his nose.
Tomorrow was Bryce's birthday banquet. He stared at his chat history with Serena, the last message still from the day he had stood her up.
"Are you back from your trip? Grandpa's birthday banquet is tomorrow."
…
An hour later, she replied with nothing but a question mark.
Irritation darkened his eyes.
"Serena, stop this. You know how important Grandpa's banquet is."
Fresh from the shower, she read the message and laughed softly, her tone icy. "Mr. Trevor, we already broke up. I won't be attending the banquet. Take whoever you like."
His patience snapped.
"Are you playing games again? I didn't agree to break up. I'm picking you up at seven tomorrow. Grandpa has treated you well. If you have any conscience at all, don't ruin his birthday."
The message sounded like both a warning and a threat.
Serena scoffed, utterly unmoved.
"Fine. I'll go. Send my appearance fee first." She attached a QR code for mobile payment. "Label it as labor compensation."
Anger flickered across his face. He couldn't tell what she was trying to pull.
With no time to argue, he transferred a million.
She accepted it almost instantly, then sent back a meme. "Thanks, sir. You're very generous."
She felt it was annoying and unnecessary to say anything more to him.

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