Chapter 10 - Serena Finally Told Me Why She Chose Me
Serena pleaded not guilty.
Then the storage unit changed everything.
Within six weeks, she changed her plea on several charges.
Fraud.
Conspiracy.
Illegal access to medical information.
Witness intimidation.
She still denied involvement in the original Legacy Protocol.
On that point, she was technically telling the truth.
She had been nineteen when Sophie was born.
She had nothing to do with what happened to me or Rebecca.
Her crimes came later.
That distinction mattered.
I hated her.
But I would not give her sins she had not committed.
Her sentencing hearing was scheduled for spring.
Before it, Serena requested one final meeting.
This time, I agreed.
Not because she deserved closure.
Because I did.
She sat behind glass.
“What do you want to know?” she asked.
“Why me?”
She frowned.
“You knew Sophie was Roman’s biological daughter.”
“Yes.”
“You knew I was her mother.”
“Yes.”
“You could have exposed everything.”
“Yes.”
“Instead you stalked us.”
“I watched you.”
“That's stalking.”
She shrugged.
“Fine.”
“Why?”
Serena leaned back.
“Because you were happy.”
I almost laughed.
“What?”
“You had nothing.”
Her voice hardened.
“A small apartment. Used car. Cheap clothes. You worked parties where women like me spent your monthly salary on earrings.”
I waited.
“And Sophie adored you.”
Something ugly moved across her face.
“I had spent my entire life learning how to become necessary to powerful people.”
I understood.
“My mother married three rich men. Every one replaced her.”
“That's sad.”
Serena's eyes flashed.
“Don't pity me.”
“I don't.”
She smiled without humor.
“Roman was supposed to be different.”
“Because?”
“He doesn't cheat.”
I hadn't known that.
“He doesn't drink enough to embarrass himself. He doesn't gamble. He doesn't chase women. He doesn't need applause.”
She laughed.
“I thought the only thing capable of making him commit was family.”
“So you invented one.”
“Yes.”
“And Sophie?”
“A threat.”
The honesty made me cold.
“She already existed.”
“Yes.”
“You thought if Roman discovered her, he'd choose her.”
“No.”
Serena looked at me.
“I thought he'd choose you.”
That caught me off guard.
“What?”
“I watched the way you were with her.”
“She was my daughter.”
“Exactly.”
Serena leaned toward the glass.
“You already had the one thing I couldn't manufacture.”
“What?”
“A family that wasn't a transaction.”
I stared at her.
For the first time, Serena did not look glamorous or dangerous.
She looked empty.
I almost felt sorry for her.
Almost.
Then I remembered the photograph outside Sophie’s window.
“Your childhood explains you.”
I stood.
“It does not excuse you.”
Serena looked down.
“No.”
That surprised me.
“Are you sorry?”
She took a long time.
“I’m sorry I lost.”
I nodded.
“Thank you.”
She looked up.
“For what?”
“For finally not pretending.”
I walked out.
Roman was waiting downstairs.
“You didn't have to come.”
“I know.”
“Why did you?”
“I wanted to.”
That answer had become his way of distinguishing care from control.
I was starting to notice.
We walked outside.
Spring rain covered the courthouse steps.
Roman opened an umbrella.
I stayed beneath it.
Small choice.
Bigger than it looked.
“What did she say?”
I told him.
He was quiet.
“Do you think she was right?”
“About what?”
“That you would choose me.”
Roman stopped walking.
“Mara.”
“I'm asking.”
Rain tapped the umbrella.
He looked uncomfortable for the first time since I had known him.
“I would choose Sophie.”
“That wasn't the question.”
“I know.”
“Then answer it.”
He studied me.
“I don't know what I would have done before all this.”
Fair.
“But now?”
His expression softened.
“Now I would never force you to become part of my life.”
“That is also not an answer.”
A faint smile.
“You're difficult.”
“You run an organization people are afraid to name. Survive.”
He laughed.
Actually laughed.
Then he became serious.
“I care about you.”
My chest tightened.
“I know.”
“I am not asking you for anything.”
“Good.”
“I don't expect anything.”
“Better.”
He nodded.
“I wanted you to know.”
I stepped out from under the umbrella.
Rain hit my hair.
“Mara.”
“I need space.”
He stopped.
No chasing.
No dramatic confession.
No grabbing my arm.
He simply said, “Okay.”
That was the moment I began trusting him.
Not because he said he cared.
Because he let me walk away after saying it.
Three weeks later, Voss went to trial.
Evelyn testified.
I testified.
Roman testified.
No cameras were allowed inside.
I told the jury what I remembered.
The procedure.
The false cyst diagnosis.
The missing consent.
The years of believing my discomfort was irrational.
I told them about Rebecca.
I did not tell them Sophie was “the good thing” that made it worth it.
Nothing made it worth it.
Sophie was not compensation.
She was a person.
Voss was convicted on multiple counts involving fraud, falsification of medical records, unlawful medical procedures, and charges connected to Rebecca’s death.
When the verdict was read, I felt no triumph.
Only exhaustion.
Outside, reporters shouted questions.
I said one thing.
“A child can be deeply loved without the circumstances of her creation being acceptable.”
Then I left.
That sentence spread everywhere.
I wished it hadn't.
I didn't want to become a symbol.
I wanted to become boring again.
But sometimes surviving publicly means strangers decide your life belongs to them.
I began turning down interviews.
Then all of them.
I returned to work—but not at Bellavista.
I resigned from the DeLuca Foundation.
Roman did not try to stop me.
I took a job managing events at a children’s museum in White Plains.
Less money.
Fewer chandeliers.
More finger paint.
Better.
My first week, Sophie visited.
She ran beneath a model dinosaur and shouted, “Mama, this place is awesome!”
Roman came to pick her up for dinner.
He looked around.
“There's glitter on the floor.”
“Yes.”
“Everywhere.”
“Yes.”
“It may never leave.”
“Now you understand fear.”
He smiled.
Sophie grabbed his hand.
Then mine.
For one second, the three of us stood connected.
I almost pulled away.
Instead I stayed.
Not forever.
Not as a promise.
Just for that moment.
May you like
My choice.
That was enough.
