She woke up to Rhys strumming one of his guitars softly and staring out over the ocean from the master suite. The lower half of his body was shielded by the chair he was sitting in, but his top half was bare, muscles and tattoos rippling as he strummed. They'd spent days here, each day more perfect than the last.

She lay quietly, taking in the perfection that was - she thought - her boyfriend. He’d certainly been acting like it recently. Since that burlesque party at the club almost two weeks ago. So much had happened in that space of time that her head spun slightly just thinking about it.

Her brain was totally unable to process it. Not only had she walked into that club a virgin- which she definitely was no longer,, but her heart now also belonged entirely to the utterly heart-wrenchingly perfect man staring out at the sunrise over the ocean.

Speaking of how long it had been, images of Katie and Mary flashed in her brain and she swallowed guiltily. It had also been more than a week since she'd spoken to either of them. She'd texted them that she was okay, that Rhys and her were taking some time for themselves, but since they thought that’s what they'd been doing all along, there were some “screamy” messages that she'd ignored that warranted an answer.

Rhys’s phone rang and he whipped his head around to her before answering.

“Milo,” he snapped quietly. “Little early to be waking me and Sese, don’t you think?”

She smiled at the nickname Milo had given her all those weeks ago as Rhys settled beside her, having realized she was awake.

She could hear Milo’s voice, but she couldn't make out what he was saying. Rhys just sighed and looked at her, resigned to whatever Milo was telling him.

“Right, no, it’s not okay. But we’ll be there, bro. See you in two hours.” He listened for a second before snapping into the phone, “No, Milo, I can’t be there sooner. I’ll see you in two fucking hours. Tell them to fucking deal with it.”

“Trouble in paradise, baby?” She leaned into him, planting light kisses on the tattoo on his chest.

“I’m afraid this honeymoon is over, princess. They’re all headed to Misery house and I’m needed ASAP, apparently. Production meeting or some shit.”

They took one last leisurely shower together, though not nearly as leisurely as most of the showers they'd taken together while they'd been here, before they packed and locked up. She paused to take one last sweeping look at the opulent place, trying to etch every part of it into her brain, before they were back in the Range Rover and speeding back toward the Misery house in the Hills.

Rhys held her hand all the way back, scraping his lips over the back of her hand in his every so often, but not saying much. He seemed focused, but far more relaxed than when they'd made this drive days earlier.

They pulled up to the Misery ‘party house’ where she now knew Jett, Luc and Milo still lived, to a flurry of activity. There seemed to be cars everywhere, people hurrying about carrying pieces of equipment, others barking into smartphones and girls sipping at cocktails everywhere.

Rhys had told her at some point over the course of the last few days that there was a recording studio here where they were expected to record the next album, but that he’d kitted out the studio at the beach and was planning on convincing only the band and the most necessary people to record it there. Where it was tranquil, where they could concentrate, focus and just be. Seemed like that plan was up in smoke.

Rhys took her hand and led her through the crowd. There seemed to be groupies, lawyers, publicists and others she didn't know all milling about.

Deacon and Annie strode up to them, looking extremely stressed and annoyed. “Rhys,” Deacon snapped. “Good to have you among the living. Serena, you’re… still here,” was all he managed for her.

Rhys pulled her tighter to his side, kissing her temple before pulling Annie into a one-armed hug, still holding onto Serena with the other.

“We’ve got a lot to get through this morning, Rhys,” Annie said. “And since your goddamn brothers can’t just spend a quiet night in and your manager sees it necessary to grow his ego with the amount of people he can fit in to rig up an already rigged studio, we have to get started.” Her eyes shot fire at Deacon.

Rhys tilted her head up and kissed her deeply, but possessively. He sighed. “I’m sorry, love, duty calls. Go get comfortable in my old room, it’s the door through the one from the room I took you to that first night. I’ll come get you as soon as I can,” he whispered in her ear, nibbling just a little at her ear at the end.

The guys all hugged her as they passed her on their way into the dining room, all except Anders, who just gave her a passing nod. None of them were their energetic, usual selves. Clearly, whatever was going on was getting to them. As soon as they’d filed in, the door clicked with a decisive lock.

She sighed but headed toward the floating staircase that she'd only ever been up once before. As she passed the kitchen, she noticed a gaggle of girls sitting on the counter.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she demanded of the groupies.

“Sshh!” the one closest to her hissed. “You can sort of hear their conversation through the A/C vent,” she whispered excitedly. “This is the only way to find out exactly what’s happening with them.” She made space for her next to the vent and waved her closer.

Every part of her being screamed to ignore her, to go up to Rhys’ room and get comfortable like he had asked, but some curious part of her- clearly the dominant part - had her shuffling toward the vent and joining the groupies on the counter.

The band was arguing about something, though she couldn't make out what until she heard Rhys’ strong voice demand, “HE HAS TO GO TO FUCKING REHAB, DEACON!”

Everyone fell silent until Deacon’s voice sounded out. “He will,” he declared. “Once you’ve recorded your new album. We’ll put off a tour.”

Everyone started talking at once, the argument seemingly back in full force. “Enough,” Annie’s voice commanded.

“That’s months away from happening, Deacon. And you know it. What if he fucking drinks himself to death before then? You think we’ll find a replacement like ‘that’?” Rhys voice rang out, his fingers snapping for emphasis.

“I’m not putting his life in danger just to wait for a new fucking album, not to mention that as soon as it’s released, it's promos, yet another fucking tour…” Rhys hissed.

A loud booming laugh came through the vent. Anders’, she thought. His voice was slurred a little, but clearly he found something very funny.

“I can handle myself, bro.” Definitely Anders then. “What about you, Rhysie? I can handle myself. Always have. You, on the other hand, running around hand in hand with that fucking slut who’s your fake girlfriend? What the fuck are we supposed to do with that? Drawing all this fucking attention to us. We just got off a nine month tour bro, people would’ve left us alone if not for that fucking stunt you pulled. Way I see it, you’re the one we should be worried about! Not enough free pussy out there for you?”

She held her breath, waiting for Rhys to defend her, to defend them. The silence was deafening before he finally answered, “Go fuck yourself, Anders!” His voice quivered with anger now. Then he said the words that made her head and her heart spiral into unknown depths, bottom out and turn the edges of her vision black.

“The only fucking reason I brought her into this shitshow to fucking begin with, the only reason I began that fucking relationship is because I wanted to keep the paps from digging. From finding out about your goddamn drug problem!”

Her heart cracked. Right down the middle, she swore she could feel it happening. Her stomach turned to ice, and a lump that felt like it was the size of a small country formed in her throat. I can’t hear any more of this. I can’t believe it… Actually, I can, but I don’t want to think about it here…

She slid off the counter and ran from the kitchen, ignoring the looks from the other girls and flung herself up the stairs, almost believing that running from his words would make a difference.

She threw open the door to his room and took it in. He seemed to have left nothing of himself behind, everything was white, pristine, clinical almost.

She collapsed into the couch in the corner, closing her eyes and replaying the events of the last few weeks in her head like a movie. How could she have misread the situation so completely? She had fallen totally, madly, crazy, deeply in love with him and he still saw her as nothing but his fake girlfriend?!

She needed to talk to someone. She needed to scream or cry or die or something. A part of her heart had definitely died in that kitchen. A big part. Most of it. A huge gaping hole now lived in her chest where most of her heart used to be.

Blindly, she reached for her phone in her bag that she had dropped next to the couch. She tried Katie first but she must have been in class, because she got her voicemail. “Hi, Katie here. I either don’t want to talk to you right now, or I can’t. Either way, I’ll get back to you when I’m ready. Leave love!”

Mary’s phone also rang to voicemail. Damn it. She couldn’t blame them, really. She'd been missing in action and phone for weeks, it’s not like they should have been hanging around, waiting for her to finally return their calls.

She sighed. She really wished she had more friends. Or that she could call her parents, have them come get her and take her home where she would be safe… She couldn't do that, though, so she needed to think of something else.

Out of desperation and despite the way they'd left things, she tried calling Josh. He was still her oldest friend, they'd always been there for each other, and she needed him now more than she ever had. Maybe he’d forgiven her, maybe he hadn’t, but surely he would still speak to her?

The phone barely rang before he answered. “Serena, are you okay?”

No. No she wasn't. Sitting up in this clinically white room with no trace of the man who used to live in it, she realized that she'd given up everything and everyone important to her for Rhys and he was still playing the game. His actions were as cold and clinical as this room.

Not that she blamed him, he’d been clear from the start about what he wanted from her- with her. Sure, it felt like it had turned into something more, but he hadn’t said anything to change the truth she'd known from the beginning. Again, her mistake. Her most grievous mistake…

How could she have imagined everything between them? It didn't seem possible, but that didn't make it any less true now.

“Could we meet, Josh? Just for coffee or something? I’m sorry I didn’t keep you up to date, I know that’s why you must be pissed at me, but I just got so carried away!” she nearly sobbed into the phone.

“Ser? Where are you? What happened? I’m not pissed at you. I’m pissed at myself. What’s wrong? Why does it sound like you’re crying?” He sounded confused, worried.

“I’m… it doesn’t matter. It’s a long story. I’ll tell you when I see you. Could I see you? I really need to talk to you.”

“Okay, fine. Yeah, let’s talk. I’m not home, closer to the coffee shop than the apartment. What do you say? Our coffee shop? Now?”

“Can you get away now?”

“Yeah,” he hesitated. “I think so. Can you?”

“Yes. Definitely. It might take me a bit to get there though.”

“Serena, if you tell me where you are, I can just come get you?” His voice was soft, strained.

“No! Thanks Josh, but I’ll get there on my own.” Josh could not come here. He’d freak out if he saw where she was.

As if he could read her mind, she heard him sigh. “I live on this planet, you know. I know you’ve been with him. Your face has been splattered in the tabloids for weeks.”

She sniffed. “You read the tabloids?”

“I do now. Let me come get you, Ser, please? Where are you?”

“It’s okay, Josh… Thanks, but really, I can get there. I need to get out of here. And I don’t want to risk any drama.”

He paused. “Okay, I’m headed over to the coffee shop now. Looking forward to finally seeing you again. Let me know if you change your mind and want me to come get you, okay?”

“Okay, I will. See you in a few.”

Deep breath. If she went… She didn't know if she'd be able to come back. Tears streamed down her face, leaving him was going to hurt like hell. Tear out that last shred of her heart, she knew it. But she had to. She couldn't keep playing his game, she was in too deep, she'd fallen too far to continue playing along for appearance’s sake.

She took another deep breath as she gathered her things, wiped away the tears for now and headed back downstairs, honing in on Thomas’ bulking framer.

“Thomas, I need you to take me somewhere. Could I ask you to do that?” The dining room door was still closed, a loud crash resonated from the other side, but no one emerged. Whatever was going on, it didn't sound good. Rhys… what if he was hurt?

No. Serena. No. That’s not your problem anymore, she silently chided herself. Another deep breath, and she squared her shoulders. Maybe if she looked confident, she'd start feeling it… Doubtful, but worth a shot. At this point, anything was.

“Sure, Miss Woods. I mean, Serena. Mr. Grant’s orders stand,” Thomas replied stoically as always, but his eyes betrayed him, concern brimming his usually neutral eyes.

She followed him outside, gripping her purse. Her bag was still in Rhys’ car, but she wasn't going to bother with that right now. He had bought those clothes for his fake girlfriend anyway, let the next one wear them… She would deal with the rest of her stuff later. Mary and Katie would get a kick out of getting it, seeing as how they would be in his house and all.

She took one final look at the Misery house as they drove through its gates and her eyes stung with unshed tears. The man she loved was in that house. She just wished that his heart wasn’t as closed to her as those gates would be again in a few seconds.