Serena's POV
The sound ripped through the gala like a siren, high-pitched, desperate, the kind of crying that made your chest tight even if you didn't know the child.
I froze, my feet refusing to move. I should ignore it. I should stick to the plan. I should appreciate the commotion and use it as a distraction to slip out.
But my feet were already moving toward the sound.
I ran down the hallway, following the screams. They grew louder, more frantic, coming from one of the side rooms near the main ballroom.
When I reached the doorway, I stopped.
A small boy maybe four or five years old was in the center of the room, thrashing wildly. Two security guards surrounded him, their hands outstretched but hesitant, like they were afraid to touch him.
"Come on, kid, calm down," one of them said, his voice strained. "Your father's on his way."
"No! No! No!" the boy screamed, his face red and tear-streaked. He pulled at his own hair, his small body shaking with the force of his sobs.
My chest tightened. Something about the scene felt wrong. The guards looked frustrated, uncomfortable. And the boy… he looked terrified.
"Just grab him," the other guard muttered. "We can't have him disrupting the entire gala."
"Are you crazy? That's Damien Sterling's kid. You want to lose your job?"
I stayed in the shadows, watching. I should leave. This wasn't my problem. This was a distraction, nothing more.
But I couldn't look away.
The boy threw himself on the ground, kicking and screaming. His hands clawed at the carpet, and his cries were so raw, so desperate, that I felt something crack inside me.
"Where the hell is Sterling?" one of the guards hissed into his radio. "We need him now."
Footsteps echoed down the hallway, sharp and precise. I pressed myself against the wall, my pulse quickening.
And then he appeared.
Damien Sterling.
Tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit. His jaw was tight, his expression unreadable, but I could see the frustration simmering beneath the surface.
"What happened?" he demanded, his voice cold and controlled.
"He just started screaming, sir," one of the guards said quickly. "We tried to calm him down, but…"
"Move."
The guards stepped back, and Damien knelt beside the boy. "Noah. Stop."
The boy Noah only cried harder, his small fists pounding against the floor.
"Noah, I said stop." Damien's voice was firmer now, edged with irritation. "You're embarrassing yourself. Get up."
Noah shook his head violently, his sobs catching in his throat. "I can't! I can't! I can't!"
Damien's jaw clenched. He reached for Noah's arm, but the boy jerked away, screaming louder.
"Don't touch me! Don't touch me!"
I watched from the shadows, my chest aching. This wasn't discipline. This wasn't a tantrum. This was a child in complete distress, and no one knew how to help him.
Not even his own father.
Against every instinct screaming at me to stay hidden, to stay out of it, I stepped forward.
"Excuse me," I said quietly.
All eyes turned to me. Damien's gaze snapped up, sharp and assessing. The guards looked confused.
"Who the hell are you?" one of them asked.
I ignored him, my focus on the boy. I knelt a few feet away from Noah, keeping my movements slow and gentle.
"Hey," I said softly. "Hey, it's okay."
Noah's crying stuttered for a moment. His eyes red and swollen flicked toward me.
"It's okay," I repeated, keeping my voice calm. "You're safe. No one's going to hurt you."
"Miss, you need to leave…" the guard started, but Damien held up a hand, silencing him.
I didn't look at Damien. I kept my eyes on Noah.
"I know it's loud in here," I said gently. "And I know everything feels too much right now. But you're okay. I promise."
Noah stared at me, his chest heaving with ragged breaths.
His small hands were still clenched into fists, but he wasn't screaming anymore.
"Can you take a deep breath with me?" I asked. "Just one?"
He hesitated, then nodded slightly.
I breathed in slowly, exaggerating the motion. Noah watched me, then copied, his breath shaky and uneven.
"Good," I said, smiling softly. "That's really good. Can we do another one?"
We breathed together again, and this time, his shoulders started to relax.
"You're doing great," I said. "Do you want to sit up?"
Noah nodded. He pushed himself up slowly, his movements unsteady. And then, before I could react, he launched himself forward and threw his arms around my neck.
I froze.
His small body clung to me, his face buried against my shoulder. His arms wrapped around me so tightly, like he was afraid I'd disappear.
My breath caught. I didn't know what to do. I didn't know this child. I shouldn't be holding him.
But my arms moved on their own, wrapping around him gently, holding him close.
"It's okay," I whispered, my voice barely audible. "You're okay now."
Noah's grip tightened, and I felt his tears soaking into my uniform. He didn't say anything. He just held on.
I closed my eyes, my chest aching in a way I didn't understand. This child, this stranger felt like something familiar. Something I'd lost a long time ago.
Footsteps approached, and I opened my eyes.
Damien stood in front of me, his expression unreadable. His dark eyes studied me carefully, his gaze sharp and intense.
"Who are you?" he asked, his voice low. I swallowed hard, keeping my face neutral. "Just a server, sir. I heard the commotion and thought I could help."
"You're good with children."
It wasn't a question. It was an observation.
"I... I have experience," I said carefully, not meeting his eyes. "I used to babysit."
Damien's gaze didn't waver. He looked at me like he was trying to solve a puzzle, like something about me didn't quite fit.
"What's your name?" he asked.
My heart stopped.
This was it. The moment I should lie. The moment I should give a fake name and disappear into the crowd.
But Noah was still clinging to me, his small body trembling, and I couldn't bring myself to pull away.
"Serena," I said quietly. "Serena Vance."
The words hung in the air between us.
Damien's eyes narrowed slightly, and for a moment, I thought I saw recognition flicker across his face. But then it was gone, replaced by cold calculation.
His gaze dropped.
To my chest.
To the name tag pinned to my uniform.
Serena Vance.
My blood turned to ice.
I'd forgotten. In the chaos, in the rush to help Noah, I'd completely forgotten about the name tag. The one Marco had made for me using my real name because I'd been too confident, too reckless, thinking no one would recognize me after five years.
Damien's jaw tightened. His eyes lifted back to mine, and this time, there was no mistaking the intensity in his gaze.
"Vance," he repeated slowly, his voice deadly quiet. "That name sounds familiar."
My breath caught. I forced myself to stay calm, to keep my expression neutral.
"It's a common name, sir," I said, my voice steady despite the panic clawing at my chest.
Damien stared at me for a long moment, his eyes searching mine. I could see his mind working, piecing together fragments of memory.
And then Noah shifted in my arms, breaking the tension.
"Don't let go," Noah whispered against my shoulder.
"Please don't let go."
I held him tighter, my heart pounding. "I won't. I promise."
Damien's expression softened slightly as he looked at his son, but when his eyes returned to me, the coldness was back.
"We need to talk," he said. "After you put him down."
"Sir, I really should get back to work…"
"That wasn't a request."
His voice was firm, commanding. The voice of a man who was used to getting exactly what he wanted.
I swallowed hard, my mind racing. I needed to get out of here. I needed to disappear before he put the pieces together.
But Noah was still holding onto me, his grip desperate and unyielding.
And Damien Sterling was staring at me like he'd just found something he'd been searching for.
Something dangerous.