Chapter 2 New Beginnings

Serena Sinclair's POV:

"Serena." Alex's voice carried that familiar commanding tone he used in court. "You know I never thought about divorcing you."

I turned to face him, feeling the cold air sting my cheeks. The same face I'd woken up to for four years now looked at me like I was just another opposing counsel. "But I want to divorce you."

His jaw clenched – that telltale sign of his mounting frustration. "I had evidence—"

"No," I cut him off, my voice sharp enough to draw glances from passing lawyers. "You had what you wanted to believe. Emma gave you an excuse, and you took it."

The silence between us stretched, filled only by the distant sound of traffic. Seven years ago, we had fallen in love in the quiet library of Yale Law School. Now, we couldn't even look at each other without seeing broken promises.

"Get in the car," he finally said, gesturing to his waiting Mercedes. "We shouldn't discuss this here."

The ride to our TriBeCa penthouse was suffocating in its silence. I watched the familiar streets of Manhattan blur past, each landmark a reminder of our shared life. The restaurant where he'd proposed. The coffee shop where we'd spent countless Sunday mornings. The courthouse where we'd celebrated his first big win.

Alex pulled up to our building but made no move to get out. "We can talk about this later." With that, he drove away.

I guessed he was probably going to handle Emma's situation. I stepped out without responding.

In our penthouse, I moved with purpose. The space that had once felt like home now seemed like a museum of broken dreams. I went straight to his study, the place where he'd spent countless nights building cases against others. Now I would build one final case of my own.

The divorce papers practically wrote themselves. Years of legal training combined with intimate knowledge of our assets made the process clinical, detached. I demanded half of the property, which was rightfully mine. I arranged them carefully on his antique mahogany desk, the wood still bearing the rings from countless late-night whiskey glasses.

My wedding ring caught the light as I worked. The three-carat diamond that had once symbolized our future now felt like a shackle. I slipped it off, placing it beside the papers. The tan line beneath would fade, just like the memories.

Within an hour, I'd packed the essentials. Sarah Steven, my best friend, had already booked me a suite at The Plaza – the perfect sanctuary for a woman rewriting her story. As I zipped my last bag, my phone buzzed with Alex's name. But I didn't bother to answer it.

The Plaza's opulence wrapped around me like a protective cocoon. Sarah was waiting in my suite, a bottle of champagne already on ice.

"You look like you need this," she said, pouring me a generous glass. The same straightforward attitude that had made her a success on Wall Street made her the perfect friend for this moment.

"I need my career back more than I need champagne," I replied, but took the glass anyway. "I gave up everything for him, Sarah. My job offer at Kingsley, my independence..."

"Then let's get it back." She pulled out her laptop. "Your resume is probably dusty, but your credentials aren't. Yale Law, top of our class, four years at a top firm before Alex convinced you to 'take a break.'" She made air quotes around the last words.

I took a long sip of champagne, feeling the bubbles dance on my tongue. "Alex's father sits on half the hiring committees in Manhattan."

"Since when has that stopped you?" Sarah's fingers flew over the keyboard. "Besides, Phillip is looking for new talent at Kingsley. And we both know he's always had a soft spot for you."

The mention of Phillip Kingston sent an unexpected warmth through my chest. He'd been a legend at Yale Law, the golden boy who'd built his own empire. I remembered how he'd always made time to help first-year students, how his smile could light up a room...

"Earth to Serena," Sarah waved her hand in front of my face. "Shopping time. Nothing says 'fresh start' like maxing out your soon-to-be ex's credit cards."

We went on a shopping spree, sweeping through various stores and indulging in purchases I hadn't allowed myself to make in the four years of this marriage. Each item felt like a small reclaiming of my identity, a step towards the independence I had lost.

Alex's calls went straight to voicemail.

We ended the night at a rooftop bar, the skyline twinkling around us like a thousand possibilities. The champagne flowed freely, but this time it tasted like freedom instead of escape.

"To new beginnings," Sarah raised her glass. "And to men who don't deserve us."

My phone buzzed again. It was still Alex. This time, I answered.

As soon as the phone was connected, his voice came through, tight with controlled anger. "Where are you? Have you seen the charges coming through?"

"Consider it the price of betrayal," I replied coolly. "The divorce papers are on your desk. Sign them."

Hearing this, he shouted loudly, "Goddammit, Serena—"

But I directly hung up, turning back to Sarah with a smile that felt more real than any I'd worn in months. "I think I'm ready for that haircut you've been suggesting."

The next morning, I stood in front of The Plaza's ornate bathroom mirror, running my fingers through my newly shortened hair. The woman staring back at me looked different – stronger, sharper, ready to reclaim her place in the world of Manhattan law.

My phone lit up with a text from Alex: We need to talk. This isn't like you.

But he was wrong. This was exactly like me – the me I'd buried under years of compromise and concession. The me who'd graduated top of her class at Yale Law. The me who'd caught Emma's lies and exposed them in court.

I typed back a single word: Sign.