Hate Me Like You Love Me (Serena and Caleb) novel Chapter 68

Serena’s POV

Courage isn’t the absence of fear—it’s the decision that something else matters more.

The Bennett estate is immaculate.

Every detail has been orchestrated to perfection, the kind of flawless execution that only obscene wealth can achieve. Cascading floral arrangements in white and gold spill from crystal vases on every surface.

Champagne flutes circulate on silver trays carried by servers in crisp uniforms. A string quartet plays softly in the corner, their music elegant and forgettable, designed to fill silence without demanding attention.

The full production of old money celebrating itself.

I arrive in a dress I chose like armor—structured midnight blue, elegant neckline, designed to make me feel untouchable even when I’m anything but.

The fabric whispers against my skin as I move, reminding me with every step that tonight I am not a victim. Tonight I am a weapon.

Beneath the neckline, hidden against my chest, rests my mother’s locket. The metal is warm from my skin, a constant pressure over my heart. Elizabeth is with me tonight, even if no one else knows it.

The people who love you, really love you, will never make you feel small.

I hold her words close as Lucas appears at the entrance to greet me.

“There she is.” His smile is wide, practiced, radiating the confidence of a man who believes he’s already won. “My beautiful fiancée.”

He kisses my cheek, and I endure it without flinching. My smile stays fixed in place, muscles aching from the effort.

His hand finds its familiar place on my waist—possessive, constant, a brand of ownership he doesn’t bother to hide anymore.

“You look stunning.” His breath is warm against my ear. “Everyone is going to be so jealous of me tonight.”

“That’s the goal, isn’t it?”

He laughs like I’ve made a joke. “Always so witty. Come on, let me show you off.”

I let him guide me into the crowd, let his arm anchor me to his side, let the guests see exactly what they expect to see—a happy couple, a perfect match, two families united in celebration.

The lies come easier than they should.

Richard and Patricia Bennett hold court near the grand fireplace, accepting congratulations like royalty receiving tribute.

Patricia’s diamonds catch the chandelier light as she gestures expansively, telling some story about how she always knew Lucas and I would find our way to each other.

Richard stands beside her with the satisfied expression of a man whose investments are paying dividends.

My father mingles among the guests with careful neutrality, his expression a mask I recognize because I taught myself the same trick.

His eyes find mine across the room, and something passes between us—acknowledgment, reassurance, the silent communication of two people who know the truth beneath the performance.

Catherine stays close to his side, her smile brittle at the edges. She’s wearing the pearl earrings my father gave her for their anniversary, and her hand keeps finding his arm like she needs the contact to stay grounded.

Somewhere near the exit, I spot Mia positioning herself with her phone ready, exactly as planned. She’s dressed to blend in—elegant but forgettable, the kind of guest no one remembers seeing.

Our eyes meet for half a second before she looks away, slipping back into anonymity.

Rachel is in the crowd somewhere. I don’t know where, can’t spot her among the sea of faces and designer gowns, but I know she’s there. Waiting for the signal. Ready to do what she came here to do.

Everything is in place.

The evening progresses with excruciating normalcy. Toasts are raised to love and family and the joining of two distinguished houses.

Laughter fills the room, bright and hollow, the sound of people performing happiness for an audience. I smile until my cheeks ache. I accept congratulations with gracious humility.

I play the part of the blushing bride-to-be with precision that would make any actress proud.

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