The Lies Behind Her Marriage novel Chapter 20

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**Chapter 20: The Study**

The Study.

Serena pressed her hand against her chest, her heart racing as if it might burst free. “God, no,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, a fragile plea echoing in the silence.

Unbeknownst to her, she had already spent a disorienting fifteen minutes in the basement, trapped in the clutches of her own memories. The weight of that past trauma anchored her in place, her limbs growing heavy and unresponsive, as if the very air around her conspired to keep her rooted to the ground.

Images flooded her mind—vivid snapshots of a time when she was far too young to comprehend the pain she endured. She felt a familiar sting of indignation; she didn’t deserve such cruelty. Had it not been for the relentless therapy sessions mandated by the social service worker, Serena doubted she would have emerged from the emotional fog that had enveloped her for so long.

In her heart, she carried the burden of her childhood experience like a hidden scar, a mark of shame that she rarely shared with anyone. Nathaniel was oblivious to her past, and most others were too. Only Alice had been granted access to that part of her soul. It was during a college retreat, amidst the laughter and camaraderie, that she had finally bared her heart to her best friend, revealing the dark shadows of her upbringing. A part of her had learned to carry it like a stain—something to be hidden, something that rendered her feeling small and alien in a world that seemed to embrace everyone but her.

“Serena, calm down,” she murmured to herself, forcing her mind to disentangle from the past and return to the present moment.

She closed her eyes and whispered a silent prayer, her fingers brushing over her belly, a gentle reminder of the life she carried within her. This was her motivation, her reason to escape the basement’s grasp.

With newfound determination, she slowly ascended the stairs, her heart pounding with each step. When she reached the basement door, she turned the knob, relief washing over her when she found it unlocked.

Emerging cautiously, Serena scanned her surroundings, her instincts on high alert as she checked for any signs of authority nearby. Once she was satisfied that the coast was clear, she darted into a shadowy corner of the house, enveloped in darkness.

Here, she allowed herself a moment to breathe deeply, inhaling the cool air as she steadied her racing heart.

After several agonizing minutes, Serena finally gathered the courage to move again. She had deliberately chosen to wear rubber-soled shoes, knowing they would help her tread silently through the house.

Before making her way up the staircase, she peered into the main hallway leading to the living room. The dim lighting cast eerie shadows, and she caught glimpses of lights flickering outside the windows—police officers patrolling the perimeter of the mansion.

Once she was certain that no authorities lurked within the house, Serena hastened toward her parents’ room. The absence of light forced her to rely on the glow of her phone as she searched for any remnants that might connect her to her parents.

Her heart sank when she discovered that the toothbrushes were gone, and not a single comb remained. The room appeared unnervingly tidy, with fresh sheets on the bed but no curtains hanging in the windows, leaving the space feeling stark and empty.

“They must have thrown it all out,” she muttered bitterly, a sense of loss washing over her.

Checking her phone, she noted the silence from Alice—no messages, no calls. That meant it was still safe, for now.

“The study,” she whispered to herself. “There has to be something in the study that I can find.”

With renewed purpose, she carefully retraced her steps down to the first floor and made her way to her father’s study.

Inside, she took in the familiar surroundings, her heart swelling with nostalgia as she spotted a few items that belonged to her father. Each object sparked a flood of memories, transporting her back to moments long past.

A fountain pen lay elegantly on the wooden table, its polished surface gleaming in the dim light. She remembered how her father would absently chew on the cap while contemplating his next signature, a nervous habit that had always fascinated her.

With gloved hands, she picked up the pen, cradling it gently before placing it in a ziplock container, a small token of her father’s presence amidst the chaos.