Chapter 3: Drowning Sorrows

"Serena, what the hell is wrong with you? You hit her? Since when did you become this kind of person?" Julian snapped his head toward me, eyes blazing, like I was the one who'd betrayed him. My throat closed up. I stared at him, unable to believe what I was hearing. In his eyes, I was the villain. I didn't matter. Not compared to Monica. But I was his fiancée. We were supposed to be getting married tomorrow. And he was screwing my best friend. "Monica Belmont, get the hell out! This is my home! Get out!" I lunged at her like a woman possessed, grabbing her arm and trying to drag her out. "That's enough! Serena Cole, don't push it!" Julian shoved me away. I hit the floor hard. Pain shot through my back, but I barely felt it. It was nothing compared to the pain twisting inside me. I got up slowly, looking at him with a bitter smile. Now I saw it. I wasn't even worth a second thought to him. He held Monica like she was his whole world. "I hate you, Julian Shepherd." The words tore from my throat, raw and broken. I turned and ran. My feet pounded the pavement as I sprinted through the night, trying to outrun the image burned into my mind. On the eve of our wedding, he had been in bed with Monica. My best friend. The woman I trusted most. And their son. Their three-year-old son. This wasn't a soap opera. This wasn't fiction. This was my life. And it had fallen apart in one night. For seven years, I believed in him. I loved him. I thought after tomorrow, we'd build a life together. But now I knew. That man was gone. Whatever love we had, he killed it tonight. I ended up at a bar. One of those dark, dirty places where no one asked questions. Smoke filled the air. Music blasted so loud I couldn't hear myself think. Bodies pressed together on the dance floor, a blur of sweat and flashing lights. I found a corner and ordered the strongest liquor they had. One glass. Then another. Then another. Tomorrow I was supposed to be a bride. Tonight, I was a fool. Seven years of memories. Seven years of lies. How could I not have seen it? Was I blind? Or just stupid? Monica's face flashed in my mind. Her smug smile. Her naked body on top of Julian. His face, twisted with desire. And Ian, who I thought had no father. I'd tiptoed around the subject for years, thinking she didn't want to talk about it because she'd been hurt. How considerate of me. What a joke. How long had this been going on? How many times had they laughed behind my back? My chest ached. I threw back another shot. It burned going down, tears rising in my eyes, but I welcomed the pain. At least it distracted me from the other kind. But even alcohol couldn't drown it. The betrayal was too deep. The wound too fresh. And tomorrow, everyone would be waiting for a wedding. But I had nothing left to give.