Chapter 220 The Serena Case Reese “The Serena Case.” Those three words hit me like a punch to the ribs—sharp, unexpected, meant to hurt. Even after Roman stopped talking, they echoed in my head, circling, taunting, refusing to let me breathe. I tried to keep my face neutral, casual even, because that’s what I do when shit gets bad. I joke. I pretend. I deny. But inside, my chest tightened until the pressure clawed up my throat. Most people go through life thinking they’ve got problems — bills, breakups, heartache, loneliness. Me? My entire existence is one giant problem sealed with the Blackwood name. I didn’t ask to be the son of General Blackwood. Didn’t audition. Didn’t sign up. Yet here I was, stuck with it like a brand I could never scrub off. But Serena? If the Serena he meant was the Serena I knew… then I was screwed. Utterly, hopelessly, catastrophically screwed. “Reese.” Roman’s voice cut through my spiraling thoughts. “Did you hear what I just said?” I blinked. Then forced a nod. “Yeah, yeah. Of course I did.” My voice cracked, and I coughed to hide it. “How did you hear about that? I mean… what even is that?” “I heard it from Paula.” Roman stood, stretching like his whole body was braced for war. “She told me to ask my father about the Serena Case. She should explain it better.” He turned to leave. “Hold on. I’ll bring her.” “Yeah. Sure. Go fetch her. I’ll wait.” My voice wobbled on the last word. He looked at me, brow furrowed, like he could sense something was seriously off. Roman wasn’t stupid. He was annoyingly perceptive when it came to everything. And for a second, I could tell he wanted to question me, pry open whatever expression I was failing to hide. But he didn’t. He walked out. And the moment he left, I felt everything inside me—fear, memory, guilt—surge up like a wave I couldn’t outrun. Should I tell him? Should I just… say it? Lay everything bare? But what if I was wrong? What if this entire Serena Case had nothing to do with the Serena I knew? What if I opened my mouth and confessed something he wasn’t even asking about? No. No, who was I kidding? Of course it was the same Serena. I squeezed my eyes shut. Not now. Not yet. I heard footsteps—two sets, one heavy, one uneven—and I looked up. Roman walked in first. Behind him was the short-haired girl from earlier. And she walked with a limp so pronounced it looked painful. Her right leg was heavily bandaged, the white dressing spotted faintly with dried blood. A bullet wound. Definitely. I’d seen enough of them to recognize the shape, the posture, the wince she tried to disguise. “Paula,” Roman said, motioning toward the couch. “Sit.” She lowered herself slowly, breathing out through her teeth. Once settled, her gaze flicked around the room. “Nice house.” “Thanks,” Roman replied stiffly. “Need anything? Water?” “No.” She paused. “Not now. Maybe later.” I stared unapologetically at her leg. “Let me guess,” I said dryly, “he shot you?” Roman answered before she could. “Yes. She wasn’t always this cooperative.” Paula rolled her eyes. “It’s a bullet wound. I’ll live. I’ve survived worse.” I huffed a surprised laugh. “You’re as tough as you look.” “You don’t know the half.” Her tone wasn’t boastful. It was matter-of-fact. Chillingly so. Roman sat forward. “You mentioned the Serena Case earlier. I need to know everything. My father has something I want, and I’m not risking it getting leaked or in much worse hands.” “What does he have?” Paula asked instantly, eyes narrowing. “What exactly does the great General Blackwood possess that scares you?” “That doesn’t concern you,” Roman snapped. “It does if you want my help.” She folded her arms, wincing slightly at the movement. “I’m not saying a word unless you tell me.” Roman’s jaw flexed hard enough to crack teeth. His fists clenched on his knees. “Paula… don’t test me.” She didn’t flinch. “Or what? You’ll shoot me again?” Roman inhaled sharply through his nose, grounding himself. “Fine.” His voice was tightly controlled. “My father has tapes… of my late wife.” Paula’s expression softened for the first time. Her eyes widened, then recalibrated with understanding. “Oh. Then yes… I understand why you’re terrified.” “So?” Roman pressed. “Her name was Serena Matthews.” Paula said. I stopped breathing. It was her. “Serena Matthews. Who was she? What is this case about?” Roman asked, oblivious to my horror. Paula sat back slightly. Her gaze sharpened. “Serena Matthews was a small-time journalist. A nobody, according to the world. But she was relentless. She built her entire identity around exposing the people behind the unexplained disappearances no one wanted to investigate. And eventually, her digging led her straight to your father.” My stomach dropped so fast I thought I’d throw up. “She connected dots,” Paula continued, “that people with much more experience failed to see—or pretended not to see. She believed General Blackwood was involved in the disappearances. And she fought hard to get anyone to listen. Talk shows. News channels. Online forums. She tried everything. But no one wanted to touch it. Too dangerous. Too political. Too powerful. This was the most feared man in the country. Nobody dared go against him.” Roman narrowed his eyes on her. “Did my father know what she’d been doing?” Paula nodded. “Of course. And instead of ignoring her like most would have… he decided to shut her up. Publicly.” My heart sank deeper. “He went on national television,” Paula said, “and debunked everything. Called her accusations baseless. Presented screenshots of doctored messages supposedly proving she’d been trying to blackmail and extort him. Overnight, the media finally noticed her. The same people who ignored her before now ripped her to shreds. They dragged her name through the mud. Harassed her family. Dug up her past. Twisted every mistake she made.” Each word felt like a hammer to my ribs. “So she went into hiding?” Roman asked. “That’s what we were told,” Paula said. “But I never believed it.” A bead of sweat slipped down my spine. “While the public speculated,” she continued, “an alleged relative came forward saying Serena fled overseas due to harassment. But rumor has it that the relative wasn’t real. It was allegedly someone from the General’s camp, pretending.” My pulse throbbed violently in my neck. At this point I knew—not suspected, not feared—that we were talking about the same Serena. “Almost a year later,” Paula said quietly, “her body was found floating in a river miles away from her home. She’d been—” Roman froze. Paula didn’t finish. She didn’t have to. Because the word was already burning in my throat like poison. “She’d been shot in the head,” I said. It came out hoarse. Raw. Broken. Roman’s head whipped toward me so fast I heard his neck crack. Paula stared too, eyes widening as though she’d found her missing puzzle piece. Roman’s voice was low. Deadly calm. “And how,” he asked, “would you know that?” My lips trembled. I closed my eyes. Air wouldn’t go into my lungs. Guilt, memory, grief—everything swallowed me whole. And I gave him the truth because I couldn’t lie anymore. “I know this because it’s my fault she ended up dead.”