The notice was folded neatly, tucked into an envelope with her name printed in clean, merciless letters.
FINAL NOTICE OF EVICTION — PAYMENT PAST DUE
She found it taped to the penthouse door when she returned that evening.
No warning.
No second chance.
Just finality.
Serena stood there for a long time,
the envelope fluttering slightly in the draft from the hallway vents.
A neighbor passed by —
someone who used to envy her wardrobe, her parties, her life.
The woman glanced at the notice, then at Serena,
and offered a brittle, pitying smile.
"Tough break," she muttered.
Then kept walking.
Inside the penthouse, Serena peeled off her coat with stiff fingers,
the walls pressing closer with every breath she took.
Landon sprawled on the couch,
lazily flipping through TV channels.
He didn't even look up when she entered.
Serena dropped the eviction notice onto the glass coffee table.
The soft flutter of the paper was deafening.
"We're getting evicted," she said.
Flat.
Dead.
Unbelieving.
Landon shrugged.
"Guess you should've saved some of that Graves money, huh?"
No apology.
No plan.
No concern.
Just casual cruelty,
like a splinter wedged under her skin.
Serena stared at him.
At the man she had destroyed her marriage for.
The man she had sacrificed her life for.
The man who now couldn't even be bothered to pretend he cared.
"We'll figure something out," she said, voice cracking in the middle.
She hated the way it sounded —
weak, desperate, lost.
Landon barked a short, humorless laugh.
"You'll figure something out, babe.
I'm not your meal ticket."
He stood, stretching with a groan,
and grabbed his jacket off the back of a chair.
Serena watched, numb.
"Where are you going?" she asked.
"Out," he said simply.
"Maybe crash at someone else's place tonight.
You know...
somewhere a little less depressing."
He winked at her like it was a joke.
Like it was funny.
Then he slammed the door behind him without waiting for an answer.
The penthouse —
once the symbol of everything Serena had climbed for, clawed for, lied for —
echoed hollowly around her.
No friends.
No family.
No love.
No future.
Just her.
And the growing, terrifying realization that soon —
even the roof over her head would be gone.
She sat down slowly at the edge of the sofa,
staring at the eviction notice on the table.
Her hand drifted to her stomach without thinking.
A strange, unfamiliar flutter of nausea coiled there —
sharp, insistent.
She pressed her palm harder against it.
Tried to swallow the rising bile in her throat.
Tried to tell herself it was just stress.
Just hunger.
Just anything else.
But deep down —
even before she missed the next period,
even before the test,
even before the conversation that would shatter whatever pieces remained—
Serena already knew.
Something was growing inside her.
Something that might be Malik's.
Something that might be Landon's.
Something that could either save her—
or damn her forever.