CHAPTER 22
Sera
The next morning, I'm in the library when a young woman in staff uniform appears.
"Mrs. Nero?" She looks nervous. "Mrs. Bianca Nero requests your presence in the garden. For tea."
A summons.
My first instinct is to refuse. To give some excuse—I’m not feeling well is a popular one.
But I know I can’t. And besides, I am intrigued as to what Bianca might have to say. Since marrying Adrian, I’ve barely seen my mother-in-law. He wasn’t kidding when he said this house was large enough to avoid one another.
And if we couldn’t, Bianca seemed to work with the same rigor as Adrian.
Today would be the first time I’d seen her in weeks, and the first time since my wedding, we’d been alone together.
I try not to let that though intimidate me.
"Tell her I'll be down shortly," I say.
The girl nods and disappears.
I take my time getting ready. Change into something more presentable than my stained jeans.
Lord knows I now have enough clothes. And honestly, itfeels good to slip on something nice. I'm not sure what one wears to tea, so I grab a floral midi dress.
Brush my hair and slick it back into a bun before slipping on a pair of heels and gold hoop earrings.
Normally, I wouldn't put in so much effort, but something about being summoned by Bianca makes me want to put in effort.
There's a desire to belong that I don't want to look deeper into.
As I step outside, I realize I haven't been in the garden since the wedding. A shame. It's lovely, especially with the late autumn flowers clinging to life against the briskness of the air.
Bianca sits at a wrought iron table, a full tea service laid out. She's dressed impeccably as always. Cream suit. Pearl earrings. Not a hair out of place. And I'm glad that I decided to dress appropriately.
"Seraphina." She gestures to the chair across from her. "Please. Sit."
I listen, sitting immediately.
She pours tea with practiced elegance and adds cream.
I sit quietly, slightly scared to say something to her.
"How are you feeling?" she asks. "After yesterday's appointment."
"Fine. Good. The baby is healthy."
"A boy." There's satisfaction in her voice. "Adrian is pleased."
"He is." It's not a question. He'd been ecstatic. I saw his happiness the moment the doctor confirmed. “Have you seen him?" I ask.
She nods but doesn't say where or when. I feel disappointed not knowing more.
Bianca studies me over the rim of her teacup. "Are you pleased?"
"Of course." I wrap my hands around my cup. "I want my baby to be healthy. Boy or girl doesn't matter."
