The Scarred Queen

Serena's POV

Bianca froze.

"Bianca, what gives you the right to tell me to stay in my place? The family's pampered princess, the trust fund shareholder?"

"You're the one always sitting pretty on unearned privilege. Who are you to lecture me about not fighting for what's mine?"

"You—!"

Her eyes reddened instantly.

"Serena, I—"

Her eyes filled with crocodile tears on cue.

But I wasn't done.

"And since you brought up my scar, let's talk about how I got it. Do you remember what you did to me when we were ten?"

"I was trying to help you stop that attacker, and if you hadn't pushed me, how would I have ended up crashing right into him? How would my face have gotten ruined?"

"That's not—I never meant—" she sobbed, tears streaming down her cheeks like she was the victim here.

"Save the waterworks. You got what you wanted—the pretty face, the money, the perfect life. Just be good and continue to be Daddy's little princess."

I turned to leave, but she started sobbing, her voice breaking:" It wasn't like that, Serena... I was just worried about you... How can you think so little of me?"

Each tear hit the marble floor like she was performing for the Met Opera.

"That's enough!"

Donald, who had been following behind Bianca the whole time, immediately pulled her into his arms.

"You've crossed a line, Serena!"

Bianca clutched his shirt, shaking her head weakly.

"No, it's okay... I'm fine... really, I'm fine..."

Her shoulders trembled.

Edward's eyes flickered with something like pity, then he looked at me in cold.

"You really did go too far. Apologize."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me. Apologize to Bianca."

SMACK!

My palm struck his face before anyone could react.

Bianca gasped, immediately stepping between us. "Serena! How could you hit him?"

I flexed my fingers, satisfaction warming my chest.

"Maybe you should train your dogs better, Bianca. They seem confused about who's the owner and who's the pet."

"You—" Donald started forward, but I was already walking away.

I was planning to pack my shit and move out that night—get as far away from Bianca and her devoted puppies as possible.

But at six AM, someone started pounding on my bedroom door like the house was on fire.

Donald didn't wait for permission—the second I cracked the door, he grabbed my arm hard enough to bruise.

"Bianca's been kidnapped. You're coming with me. NOW."