Chapter 312

Serena’s POV

The next morning, I impulsively decided to take Vivian shopping. We needed to get out of the house, just the two of us. Something about the mounting tension with Ryan made me crave this simple escape—just me and my daughter exploring the world without the weight of expectations or disappointments crushing us.

I was buckling her into her stroller outside Bloomingdale’s when I heard a familiar voice.

"Is that little Vivian Blackwood?" Cedric approached, smiling broadly. "She has your eyes."

My heart did this weird little skip. I hadn’t prepared to run into anyone I knew, least of all him.

"Cedric," I said, surprised. "What are you doing around here?"

"My hotel’s just down the block. I was about to grab coffee before some property viewings." He knelt to Vivian’s level. "Hello there, beautiful."

Vivian, normally shy with strangers, gave him a gummy smile and reached for his finger. The ease of their connection hit me right in the chest—a bittersweet what-if that I quickly shoved away.

"She likes you," I observed, genuinely surprised. Vivian usually took forever to warm up to new people. Even some of Ryan’s business associates she’d seen multiple times still got her legendary death glare.

"I have that effect on the ladies," he joked, standing. "Shopping day?"

I nodded. "She’s growing like a weed, needs a whole new wardrobe."

"Mind if I tag along? I could use a break from real estate agents, and afterward, we could hash out some preliminary ideas for our collaboration over coffee."

I hesitated for a split second. A voice in my head—sounding exactly like Ryan’s—warned me this wasn’t appropriate. It was just shopping and a work meeting, but something felt... complicated. Still, having another adult to talk to while navigating department store aisles sounded like heaven. And God knows I needed someone who understood my creative vision to bounce ideas off of.

"Sure, why not?" I finally said, telling that nagging voice to shut up.

Shopping with Cedric was surprisingly amazing. He had an eye for color and made Vivian giggle by trying on tiny hats alongside her. There was no awkwardness between us—just the comfortable rhythm of old friends who shared both history and passion for the same craft. The hours melted away, filled with laughter and easy conversation that made me realize how starved I’d been for this kind of intellectual connection.

Three hours later, loaded down with bags and with a very happy baby, we headed to a café near Central Park.

"So I’ve been thinking about your fine jewelry line," Cedric began after we’d ordered. "What if we combined your signature settings with some of the sustainable sourcing methods I’ve developed in East Africa?"

I leaned forward, my creative brain instantly firing on all cylinders. The artistic part of me lit up like a Christmas tree, sketches and designs already forming in my mind. "That could work brilliantly with the direction I’m taking Dreamland. Tell me more about these sources—"

"Serena."

The deep, ice-cold voice sliced through our conversation like a knife. My entire body tensed before I even fully registered who was speaking. I looked up to find Ryan looming beside our table, his eyes hard as granite as they moved between Cedric and me.

"Ryan," I managed, suddenly feeling like I’d been caught cheating, though I knew I hadn’t. My face burned with guilt I had no reason to feel. "How did you even find us?"

Ryan didn’t acknowledge the introduction. His gaze fixed on Vivian, who was contentedly playing with a stuffed animal Cedric had bought her. The muscle in his jaw twitched—that familiar warning sign that he was barely keeping his temper in check.

"Get your things," he said, his voice controlled but loaded with tension. "You and Vivian are coming with me."

"Ryan, we’re in the middle of a meeting—" I started, embarrassment quickly morphing into fury. How dare he swoop in here like I was some runaway kid?

"Now, Serena."

I swallowed hard, humiliation and anger colliding in my chest. Every eye in the café seemed to be on us. "I’m sorry, Cedric. Perhaps we can reschedule?"

Cedric stood politely. "Of course. Lovely meeting you, Mr. Blackwood." He extended his hand, which Ryan completely ignored.

With my cheeks on fire, I gathered Vivian and our shopping bags. Ryan took the baby from me without a word and began walking toward the exit where his car waited at the curb. His back was ramrod straight, shoulders squared like he was heading into battle. I followed behind, a hurricane brewing inside me. Who the hell did he think he was? We’d come so far in Vegas—or so I thought—and now he was back to treating me like property.

Inside the car, the silence was thick enough to choke on. I was just working up the courage to explain the innocent nature of the meeting when Ryan spoke.

"We’re going to have another wedding."

I blinked, sure I’d lost my mind. "What?"

Ryan turned to me, his expression unreadable. "I want to marry you again. Properly this time. I want everyone to know you’re Serena Blackwood."

My jaw hit the floor, but no words came out. After our secret reconciliation in London, we’d quietly resumed our married life, except I’d kept my maiden name, staying Serena Quinn professionally.

Why was he bringing this up now?

I looked at Ryan like he’d just announced he was moving us to Mars. His face was dead serious, jaw set in that stubborn way I’d come to recognize as his "this is happening" expression.

"A wedding?" I finally managed. "You’re bringing this up now? After making a scene in front of my business associate?"

"It’s not about the damn wedding!" Ryan’s voice carried through the door, his footsteps heavy as he followed me. "It’s about us, Serena!"

I whirled around when he entered, my arms crossed defensively. "I’m buried under deadlines, Ryan. The Quinn-Dreamland merger needs my personal attention, the London boutique launch is in three weeks, and I’ve already missed too much time with Vivian."

His jaw tightened, that muscle twitching the way it always did when he was trying not to explode. "And where exactly do I fit into your jam-packed schedule? Between conference calls and bedtime stories?"

"That’s not fair." I ran my fingers through my hair, exhaling slowly. "You know how important this is to me. I finally have everything—my family, my identity, my work—"

"And your husband?" Ryan moved closer, his gray-blue eyes intense. "Where does he fall on that list?"