CHAPTER 170: CHAPTER 170 LINES CROSSED

Serena’s POV

Ryan’s expression hardened as he watched me fume. He finally furrowed his brows, looking thoroughly annoyed.

"Serena, calm down for a minute."

"I am perfectly calm, Ryan," I spat back. "If you’re here to interrogate me or pull some other manipulative stunt, just leave. I don’t have time to entertain your control issues today."

I turned to walk away, some of my anger released but my chest still tight with frustration.

Maya stood at the doorway, her eyes wide as she witnessed our heated exchange. My assistant Lucy behind her looked equally shocked, clearly surprised by my uncharacteristic outburst.

Ryan took two quick strides forward, his face a mask of cold intensity.

"What exactly did you mean by what you just said?"

"Exactly what you heard. Do I need to spell it out for you?"

We stood there, trading verbal blows, neither willing to back down.

Maya grimaced and stepped between us like a referee at a boxing match. "Whoa, battle royale in progress! Can we maybe take this inside where the entire street isn’t getting a free show? The sun’s blazing out here."

"Not necessary," I huffed, crossing my arms over my baby bump. "I have actual work waiting for me. Work that doesn’t involve pointless arguments."

I yanked my arm away from Ryan’s attempt to stop me and marched straight into the studio.

Ryan stood there, his expression darkening by the second. After a moment of visible internal debate, he turned and walked back to his waiting car.

Maya glanced between Ryan’s retreating figure and the studio entrance before following me inside. Friends before exes—always.

"Okay, what the hell was that about?" She stepped inside, closing the door behind her. "I’ve never seen you go full scorched earth on someone before—not even that client who wanted thirty revisions in one night."

I collapsed into my chair, hand instinctively finding its way to my baby bump. "He crossed a line, Maya. A big one."

"I gathered that much from the shouting." She perched on the edge of my desk. "Want to tell me what happened, or should I just assume he murdered someone?"

"He sent someone to sabotage my deal with LUXE." My voice trembled with residual anger. "Can you believe that? Trying to convince Ethan that I’m too ’exhausted’ for this partnership."

Maya’s eyes widened. "Are you serious? That’s some next-level controlling bullshit."

"Right?" I threw my hands up. "It’s like he still thinks he has ownership over me or something."

"Men like Ryan think marriage is a merger, not a partnership," Maya scoffed, reaching for my water bottle and handing it to me. "Drink. Your tiny human needs hydration even when his dad is being a jackass."

I took a long sip, letting the cool water soothe my parched throat. "I just don’t understand what gives him the right. We’re divorced. D-I-V-O-R-C-E-D. My business decisions are mine alone."

"And what exactly did Mr. High-and-Mighty say when you confronted him?"

"That’s the thing—he acted like he had no clue what I was talking about." I rolled my eyes. "Classic gaslighting technique."

Maya crossed her arms, her brows furrowed. "So he denied sending someone?"

"Of course he did! What else would he do? Admit it?" I pushed a stack of papers aside. "God, Maya, the way he looks at me sometimes—like I’m this fragile little thing that can’t possibly survive without the mighty Blackwood name behind me."

"Ooh, I hate that look." Maya grabbed a stress ball from my desk and squeezed it violently. "Julian gives me that sometimes when I mention taking on bigger clients. Like, hello? I’ve been designing since before I met you, thanks."

"Exactly!" I leaned forward, grateful she understood. "Ryan acts like Dreamland Studio is some cute little hobby I picked up after our divorce, not the thriving business I built from nothing while he was busy playing corporate king."

Maya tossed the stress ball from hand to hand. "Remember when you landed the Henderson account and he had the nerve to ask if you needed ’help with the paperwork’?"

"Oh my God, yes!" I groaned. "Or when he suggested I hire one of his company’s financial advisors because I ’shouldn’t stress about numbers in my condition.’"

"As if you didn’t graduate top of your class in business alongside design!" Maya’s indignation matched my own. "The man really doesn’t get it, does he? You’re not just his ex-wife—you’re Serena fucking Quinn, design prodigy and business badass."

I smiled despite myself. "Well, I don’t know about badass..."

We continued like this, listing every slight and microaggression Ryan had committed since our divorce, each example fueling our righteous indignation. What started as Maya trying to calm me down had morphed into a full-blown man-bashing session. Our voices grew more animated as we cataloged all the ways Ryan had overstepped.

"And don’t even get me started on how he tries to dictate who I can and cannot work with," I added, my voice rising. "Like that time he ’happened to mention’ that Julian had dated three women from competing design firms."

"Which wasn’t even true!" Maya exclaimed. "Julian dated ONE woman who LATER went to work for a competitor. Talk about twisting facts."

"It’s like Ryan thinks my entire life should revolve around what he deems appropriate," I sighed, feeling the tension start to drain from my shoulders. "As if I didn’t spend enough years trying to mold myself into the perfect Blackwood wife."

Only after I’d vented everything—my frustration with his possessiveness, my anger at his interference, and my determination to maintain my independence—did Maya give me a sly smile.

"Although," she drawled, twirling a strand of her red-brown hair, "not to play devil’s advocate here, but Ryan showed up and didn’t even get a word in before you went nuclear on him. Just throwing this out there—is it possible he actually came to apologize?"

I snorted derisively. "Even if he was, I’m not about to forgive him that easily. Some things require more than a simple ’I’m sorry’ to fix."

"Fair enough," Maya conceded, standing up and smoothing down her skirt. "But Serena, just so you know—and I say this as someone firmly in your corner—you might want to verify it was actually him behind this LUXE sabotage attempt. The Ryan I’ve observed lately seems..." she paused, searching for the right word, "different. Less arrogant. Almost human."

"Are we talking about the same Ryan Blackwood?" I asked incredulously.

"All I’m saying is that people can change," she shrugged. "Even entitled billionaire assholes with god complexes."

I threw a crumpled design sketch at her. "Whose side are you on anyway?"

"Yours. Always yours," she grinned, dodging my projectile. "But also on the side of truth, justice, and making sure pregnant women don’t have stress-induced aneurysms over potentially misunderstood situations."

"Whatever," I mumbled, though a tiny seed of doubt had been planted. "He still has a lot to answer for."

"No argument there," Maya headed toward the door. "Now, are we still on for that client presentation at four, or do you need me to handle it solo while you plot Ryan’s ultimate demise?"

I couldn’t help but smile. "I’ll be there. This baby and I have a company to run, with or without Ryan Blackwood’s approval."