The city glowed beneath her.
Wounded.
Beautiful.
Alive.
Just like her.
Serena smiled into the mirror, adjusting the delicate diamond studs at her ears.
Presentation mattered.
More now than ever.
She would be flawless tonight —
grace under fire,
untouchable even if the world thought her crumbling.
Landon waited downstairs, tapping absently at his phone when she appeared.
He looked up, grin slipping onto his face like an old habit.
"You're a vision, babe," he said, sliding his arm around her waist as cameras snapped outside.
Serena tilted her head into him,
perfecting the angle,
perfecting the lie.
The event was crowded —
sponsored by mid-tier art patrons she used to consider beneath her notice.
But tonight, she shook hands.
Laughed in the right places.
Held Landon's hand in photos.
They looked good together.
They looked solid.
That was all that mattered.
But cracks are never silent.
They creep.
They whisper.
They grow.
Serena caught Landon glancing at a sleek young model near the hors d'oeuvres table.
Once.
Twice.
Flashing that reckless smile that used to be reserved for her.
She ignored it.
When a gallery executive approached —
someone Malik had known personally —
Serena extended her hand, polished and warm.
The woman smiled thinly,
then turned to Landon.
"You're...?"
"Landon Croix," he said brightly, cutting Serena off.
"Up-and-coming curator. Lot of buzz lately."
Serena stiffened slightly.
Curator?
Buzz?
Landon hadn't curated anything —
unless one counted empty promises and late-night drinks.
But the woman nodded politely,
gave him her card.
Later, when Serena lightly teased him about it,
Landon just shrugged, sipping champagne.
"Networking, babe.
Same game you taught me."
There was no apology in his voice.
No recognition of the sting it left behind.
Back at the penthouse, Serena leaned against the kitchen counter, heels dangling from her hand.
Landon dropped onto the couch without ceremony, already scrolling through his phone.
No thanks.
No compliments.
No whispered promises.
Just exhaustion.
And distance.
Serena stared out at the bruised night sky.
Tomorrow she would host another brunch.
Post another smiling photo.
Draft another sponsor email full of optimism she didn't feel.
She would keep moving.
Keep building.
Keep pretending.
Because stopping meant admitting that she had nothing left to build with.
Behind her, Landon laughed at something on his phone.
Not with her.
Not about her.
Just...
away from her.
Serena pressed her palm flat against the cold marble counter,
steadying herself.
Tomorrow would be better.
It had to be.