Serena’s POV
I stared at the grand Quinn family estate, my heart racing as Zoe gently guided me from the car. Everything felt surreal—these people were my family?
Eleanor immediately positioned herself between Ryan and me, giving him the fakest smile I’d ever seen.
"Mr. Blackwood, today is a Quinn family reunion," she said with chilling politeness. "As an outsider, your presence isn’t appropriate. Please leave."
I watched Ryan’s expression darken slightly, but he controlled himself well. For my sake, I knew. He’d swallowed his pride many times today.
"Just take good care of Serena," he said evenly. "I’ll come back for her later."
Zoe turned around, her voice colder than ice. "That won’t be necessary, Mr. Blackwood. Serena is the third daughter of the Quinn family. Her place is here with us. Whether you return to New York or stay in London makes no difference to us."
Poor Ethan—I could see him wanting to smooth things over, but one sharp glance from Zoe had him shrinking back. I felt caught in the middle of a tug-of-war I never asked for.
"Ryan," I said softly, "maybe it’s better if you wait at the hotel. I’ll call you, I promise."
He sighed almost imperceptibly. "Alright."
My newly discovered sisters flanked me like bodyguards as we walked into the mansion. I glanced back once to see Ethan apologizing to Ryan, and something in my heart ached. This wasn’t how I wanted things to go.
My parents—God, my actual parents—rushed out to meet us. My mother’s eyes filled with tears immediately.
"Serena," she gasped, grabbing my hands. "It’s really you. You’ve finally come home."
Her tears fell freely, and I felt something twist inside me. Eleanor stepped in, guiding us all to sit down.
"Hazel, let’s all sit first. Don’t get too upset—look, she’s back with us now."
My father—Liam Quinn—nodded solemnly. "Yes, let’s go inside."
Once seated, I studied their faces carefully. Ethan was right—the resemblance between my mother and me was unmistakable. Seven, maybe eight points of similarity out of ten. Seeing my own features reflected in another person’s face was both comforting and strange.
"Serena, you must have suffered so much," my mother said, her eyes dropping to my rounded belly. "Are you married? Your stomach..."
"I was," I replied, feeling oddly calm despite the emotional storm around me. "A lot has happened since I fell into the sea. I lost all my memories after that."
"You lost your memory?" My mother clutched at her chest. "But you’re here now. That’s all that matters."
She kept repeating those words, her emotions clearly overwhelming her. I wanted to comfort her, but calling them "Mom" and "Dad" still felt foreign on my tongue.
Zoe, sensing my discomfort, quickly intervened. "Mom, Dad, Serena just arrived. We shouldn’t upset her—remember she’s pregnant. Let’s give her time to rest. We have plenty of time ahead of us."
My father nodded in agreement. "We do have time, but Serena, please tell me what happened to you these past years."
I looked up at him, noticing the worry lines creasing his forehead and the scattered gray hairs that hadn’t been carefully dyed away. A surprising warmth filled me—these people had never forgotten me.
"After falling into the sea, I was rescued by Ryan Blackwood, CEO of Blackwood Group," I explained carefully. "Out of gratitude for saving my life, I married him. The Blackwood family treated me well, but Ryan and I didn’t have much of a connection at first, so we eventually divorced."
My parents’ expressions darkened at the word "divorce."
"You’re divorced? Then this child..." my father began.
I smiled ruefully. "I discovered I was pregnant after the divorce. But we’ve worked through our misunderstandings now and are back together. I plan to remarry him after our baby is born."
They seemed slightly relieved, but still concerned.
"Serena," my father said seriously, "how does he treat you now? If you’re getting back together just for the child’s sake, there’s no need. You’re home now—you don’t have to force yourself into anything. The Quinn family can certainly support one more child."
"No, it’s not like that," I hurried to explain. "We did have misunderstandings before, but now we genuinely want to be together."
My sisters exchanged a skeptical glance. This wasn’t the first time today they’d heard me defend Ryan.
"Really?" Eleanor raised a skeptical eyebrow. "For someone who supposedly runs the Blackwood Group, he was surprisingly meek when we turned him away at the door. Didn’t even try to argue—just accepted defeat and left."
My father’s expression darkened. "He didn’t insist on seeing Serena?"
Ethan quickly interjected, "That’s because Ryan has nothing but respect for Serena’s family. The entire London trip was his suggestion—he genuinely wanted Serena to rebuild her relationship with all of you."
Zoe let out a derisive laugh. "Listen to you, already on a first-name basis with him. ’Ryan’ this, ’Ryan’ that."
"I’m simply telling you what I observed," Ethan said defensively, his jaw tightening.
"That’s enough, all of you." My father’s authoritative voice cut through the tension. "Serena is home safe, and that’s what matters. She can stay as long as she needs. We’ll sort out the rest later."
My mother stepped forward, her maternal instincts taking over. "Darling, you must be exhausted. What would you like to eat? I’ll cook it myself—none of that restaurant nonsense."
"Mom, please don’t fuss," I protested weakly, though her concern warmed something cold inside me. "I’m not picky—whatever you make will be perfect."
"Eleanor." My mother’s tone brooked no argument. "Take your sister upstairs. She needs proper rest."
Eleanor led me up a grand staircase, her heels clicking softly against the polished marble. "This was your room," she said, pausing before an ornate door and turning the brass handle. "After you disappeared, we left everything exactly as it was. Mother insisted we keep it clean, hoping... well, hoping for this day."
I stepped into what had supposedly been my room. It was large and airy, decorated in pale blue with white furniture. Clean, organized, and completely unfamiliar. A walk-in closet stood open on one side, filled with clothes I didn’t remember wearing.
"These are all your clothes from before," Eleanor continued, gesturing toward the closet. "Though I imagine your style has changed considerably. Zoe and I would love to take you shopping—just tell us your preferred designers."
I ran my fingers along the pristine bedspread, searching for any flicker of recognition. Nothing. "That’s very kind, but I won’t be in London long enough to warrant new clothes."
Eleanor’s face fell slightly. "Serena, I know you’ve built a life in New York—your studio, your independence. But this is where you belong. This is your real home."
"I want to remember," I said quietly, the admission surprising even myself. "I know you’re my family, I can see how much you care, but looking at all of this... it’s like staring at someone else’s life through glass."
Zoe appeared in the doorway, her expression softer than it had been downstairs. "Memory isn’t everything, you know. Sometimes starting fresh isn’t the worst thing that can happen to a person. What matters is what you choose to do now."
I managed a small smile. "I’m trying to figure that out."
"Well, you won’t solve anything on an empty stomach," Zoe said practically. "Eleanor, let’s give her some breathing room. Serena, we’ll call you when lunch is ready."