Chapter 225

In the past, whenever Serena asked Nathan such a question, he would answer without hesitation, his voice firm and unwavering. But tonight, the silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating. His hesitation was answer enough. Even if he hadn’t fallen for Evelyn yet, Serena knew—something had shifted. Evelyn was no longer just another woman in Nathan’s eyes. And that realization tore through her like a blade.

She wasn’t the only one who noticed. Dylan’s jaw tightened, his dark eyes flickering with something unreadable, though he remained silent.

Serena didn’t press further. She was too afraid of the answer—too afraid of the words that might shatter what little remained of her heart. Instead, she reached for the bottle of whiskey on the table, pouring herself another glass. Maybe if she drank enough, the pain would dull. Maybe she wouldn’t feel anything at all.

"Stop, Serena," Nathan commanded, his voice rough with frustration.

She only smiled bitterly, lifting the glass to her lips. "Let me have this, Nathan. If I’m drunk, I won’t have to think. I won’t have to feel."

Nathan’s fists clenched at his sides, but he didn’t argue. The air between them grew heavier, suffocating. Serena kept drinking, her hands trembling with every pour. She didn’t stop until the world blurred around her.

Dylan, watching her with growing alarm, finally snapped. "Nathan, do something! She’s going to kill herself at this rate!"

Nathan moved toward her, but before he could take the glass from her hand, Serena doubled over, retching violently. Then, with a shuddering gasp, she collapsed onto the sofa, unconscious.

"Serena!" Both men lunged forward.

"What the hell happened? Is she okay?" Dylan demanded, panic lacing his voice.

Nathan’s expression darkened as he scooped her into his arms. "Hospital. Now."

Without another word, he carried her out, Dylan hot on his heels, his face etched with worry.

At Silvercrest General Hospital…

After the examination, the doctor approached them with a grim expression.

"Alcohol poisoning," he said. "We’ve induced vomiting, but her condition is still unstable. She’ll need to stay overnight for observation. If there are no complications, she can leave tomorrow."

The words settled like a weight between them. Nathan and Dylan exchanged a tense glance.

"Thank you, Doctor," Dylan muttered.

The doctor nodded and left, leaving them in the sterile, suffocating silence of the hospital hallway.

Moments later, Serena was wheeled into a private room. Dylan stood by her bedside, staring at her pale, fragile form beneath the harsh fluorescent lights. His fists clenched at his sides, guilt and frustration warring inside him.

Finally, he turned to Nathan, his voice low and grave.

"There’s something you should know."

Nathan’s gaze sharpened. "What?"

Dylan exhaled sharply. "Earlier today… one of the maids found fresh cuts on Serena’s thighs. Knife wounds."