Chapter 5

My words peeled back his romantic facade, exposing the raw, ugly entitlement beneath.

His face turned ashen. His lips trembled, but he couldn't form a sentence.

"I... that's not true..."

His defense was laughably weak.

Tired of his presence, I moved to slam the door shut.

He lunged forward, jamming his foot against the threshold, his eyes wild with fury.

"Serena, I've broken my back trying to hold this family together! Can't you just compromise for once?!"

"Your idea of compromise is expecting me to bleed myself dry to feed your vultures?"

He choked on his words, his face flushing crimson. After a long, tense beat, his voice dropped into an icy, sinister whisper.

"I'm asking you one last time. Are you giving up that deed or not?"

There was an unmistakable threat laced in his words.

A chill ran down my spine.

This was the man I had chosen to marry.

When real money was on the line, his so-called love couldn't withstand a single breeze.

"No," I said, looking right through him.

"Over my dead body."

"Fine! Perfect! You really are heartless, aren't you, Serena?"

He bared his teeth like a cornered animal.

"Don't come crying to me when you regret this!"

He spat out the threat, wheeled around, and stormed down the stairs.

I shut the door and leaned my back against the cold wood. My hands were shaking uncontrollably.

Not from fear. From rage. From utter disgust.

I pulled myself together and began packing.

There was no way in hell I was spending another night under this roof.

Just as I zipped up my last suitcase, my phone buzzed on the counter.

An unknown number.

I hesitated for a second before answering.

A shrill, condescending woman's voice immediately blasted through the receiver.

"Is this Serena? It's your Aunt Clara."

"I hear you're trying to drag your own in-laws to court over some real estate?"

"What kind of vicious monster does that to her husband's own family?!"

Before I could get a word out, she hung up.

Then came the second call. And the third.

A parade of distant Vance relatives—people I barely knew—took turns lighting up my phone.

Their scripts were all identical.

They lectured me about grace, told me a good wife puts family peace over worldly possessions.

Some called me cold and selfish.

Others warned me that if I kept this up, the entire Vance family would ostracize me.

One even sneered through the speaker that a woman with too sharp of an edge would end up divorced and alone.

I didn't bother arguing.

I just blocked every single number, one by one.

I knew exactly what this was: the Vance family's second offensive.

They wanted to weaponize guilt, family pressure, and moral shaming to corner me until I cracked.

Too bad for them. They picked the wrong woman.