I Came Back And They All Chose Her Over Me Chapter 01

I Came Back And They All Chose Her Over Me Chapter 01

The day I came back to New York after five years abroad, the childhood friend who had supposedly loved me for more than ten years, Evander Whitmore, stood outside the VIP arrivals exit and the first thing he said to me was: “Sera, Elodie is easily frightened. Don’t scare her.”

My steps stalled for two seconds. For a second, I wondered if the thirteen-hour flight had messed with my hearing..

Five years apart, and there was no “welcome home,” no “are you tired from the flight?”

He stood in front of me the same way he always had, his white sleeves rolled to his elbows, looking as clean-cut and untouchable as ever, yet the first thing out of his mouth was a warning on behalf of another girl.

I took off my sunglasses and looked up at him. “Evander Whitmore, do you really have to warn me before you even say hello now?”

Something shifted faintly between his brows, as if even he knew this was a poor way to begin.

Still, he lowered his voice and said, “That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?”

Evander took the suitcase from my hand, avoiding my eyes.

“Elodie hasn’t been doing well lately. She heard you were coming back and stayed up all night. She’s sensitive, so try not to be too harsh with her.”

A real laugh slipped out of me.

When we were kids, I fell off a horse at the riding club and broke my arm. Evander stayed by my bed the entire night.

Later, when I ran a fever and started talking nonsense, he had no trouble dragging a private doctor out of bed at three in the morning.

Back then, everyone in New York society knew that if Seraphina Ashbourne so much as lost a strand of hair, the Whitmore heir would frown over it for half the day.

Now I had barely landed, and the only thing he worried about was whether I might frighten someone else.

“Fine.” I draped my silk scarf over my shoulder, my tone light. “I’ll do my best to look less threatening.”

Evander glanced at me, as if he wanted to say something, but in the end, all he said was, “The car’s outside.”

The moment we stepped out of the terminal, New York’s wind rushed toward me, dry and sharp with the chill of late April.

I had been gone too long. Long enough that even the signs along the airport overpass had been replaced.

But the city was not what felt unfamiliar.

What felt unfamiliar was the invisible line between the front seat and the back seat after I got into his car.

“What about the others?” I turned toward the window and asked casually.

Evander held the wheel, his voice calm. “Dashiell is tied up on the West Side. Soren has a roadshow this afternoon. Soren has a pitch event this afternoon.”

“Sounds busy.” I nodded. “Too busy to pick me up, but not too busy to worry about whether I’ll bully someone.”

The car fell silent for a few seconds.

Evander probably knew there was no good answer to that, so he only said, “Dashiell is throwing you a welcome-home dinner at The Ninth House tonight. Are you coming?”

“Of course.”

I turned my phone back on, and dozens of messages rushed in at once, almost flooding the screen.

“After five years, I should at least see what everyone has turned into.”

The first message at the top was from Blythe Arden.

[Your Majesty, you finally landed. Don’t reply in the group yet. It’s been more dramatic than a soap opera in there these past few days. I took screenshots of the important parts for you.]

A long string of screenshots followed, all from our old group chat, the one that had been dead for years.

The earliest message was from Dashiell.

[Is Miss Ashbourne really coming back?]

Cassian replied: [Confirmed.]

Half a minute later, Soren sent one line.

[Don’t let Elodie find out yet.]

Then came Evander.

[She’ll find out sooner or later.]

Dashiell: [I’m just worried there’ll be a scene when the time comes.]

Cassian: [Do you not remember what Sera’s temper was like growing up?]

Soren: [Let’s just keep an eye on her for now.]

The last messages were from that morning, two hours before my plane landed.

Evander: [I’ll pick her up.]

Dashiell: [Fine. Warn her first. Don’t let her take it out on Elodie.]

I stared at those lines for a long time, my fingertip resting against the edge of the screen.

Outside the window, the overpass slid backward in section after section, and my reflection hovered faintly in the glass.

My makeup was perfect. My expression was perfectly steady. Only the pressure of my pale fingertip against the phone case gave away what I refused to show.

They had already written my crime for me.

Before I had even set foot in New York, I was already the villain who might take her anger out on someone innocent.

When the car pulled into the Ashbourne estate, my mother was already waiting at the entrance.

She wore an ivory dress, her hair pinned loosely at the back. The moment she saw me, she hurried down the steps.

“Sera.”

I threw myself into her arms, and my nose stung at once.

“Mom.”

She held me for a moment before stepping back to look at my face, her eyes bright with warmth. “You’ve gotten thinner.”

“I blame five years of European food.”

“Good. Then we’ll fix that at home.”

She smoothed my hair for me, then glanced toward Evander. The smile in her eyes faded a little.

“Thank you for picking her up, Evander.”

Evander gave a small nod. “Of course.”

My father was in the living room pretending to read the newspaper, but the second I walked in, he put it down. His tone was still deliberately calm.

“You’re back. Did we really need all this fuss?”

I walked over and hugged him. “Should I leave, then?”

He could not keep the stern act going. With a snort, he said, “Try it.”

The house was exactly the same as before. Even the couch where I used to curl up and watch movies as a child had not been replaced.

After lunch, I went with my mother to the conservatory to choose flowers for the reception: white roses, champagne ranunculus, pale gold place cards, and a custom dessert table.

While checking the list, she asked, “Does Lucien’s mother prefer fuller arrangements or something more understated?”

“Understated,” I said after a moment. “She doesn’t like colors that feel too loud.”

“Then we’ll remove two more groups of hydrangeas.”

She handed her notes to the house manager, then suddenly looked at me again. “You came home a month early for this welcome reception?”

“Yes.” I lowered my head and flipped through the color swatches. “His father isn’t in the best health, so frequent travel isn’t convenient for him. This is the first formal meeting between the two families. There are a lot of details to confirm ahead of time.”

My mother looked at me with a softness in her eyes that almost felt like pride. “You really have grown up.”

I smiled but said nothing.

Maybe growing up meant leaving the people and places you knew best, then slowly learning to pull your expectations back into your own hands.

The sweetness other people offered stopped mattering so much. You began deciding for yourself what to eat tonight, where to go tomorrow, and who to build a future with.

At six that evening, I changed into a black slip dress and went to The Ninth House.

The Ninth House was the private club we used to visit most often.

When Dashiell turned eighteen, he had the entire rooftop terrace renovated. A glass wine cabinet stood at the center, and in the corner, he had placed the white piano I liked.

Back then, he used to tell everyone, “If Seraphina Ashbourne is happy, The Ninth House stays open all night.”

When the car pulled up, Blythe was already waiting outside. The moment she saw me, she looked me over from head to toe, then swore under her breath.

“Did you take that face overseas for five years just to bless the entire continent?”

I handed her my bag. “Get to the point.”

As we walked inside, Blythe lowered her voice. “Elodie is in there.”

“Oh.”

“That’s it? That’s your reaction?”

“What else?” I turned my head toward her. “Should I go back to the car and practice my jealous ex entrance?”

Blythe laughed despite herself, then sighed. “You’ll understand once you go in. Honestly, I haven’t been able to figure them out for the past two years.”

“At first, everyone thought Elodie was just a quiet little girl who looked vaguely like you. Who would’ve guessed those four would get more invested than the last? Now people are saying that even with the original girl of their dreams back, she still might not win.”

I did not slow down. “Who told them I came back to compete?”

Before I pushed open the private room door, I heard Dashiell’s voice first.

“Don’t be nervous. Sera isn’t that petty.”

Then came a very soft female voice. “But I’m still a little scared.”

Someone laughed and added, “Scared of what? You’ve got people protecting you now.”

Inside, the room went quiet.

I stood in the doorway and saw Elodie Wren at once. She was sitting beside the seat of honor in a cream dress, her soft hair falling over her shoulders. There was, admittedly, a faint resemblance between us

But she looked thinner and quieter than I had imagined, the sort of girl who seemed as if a gust of wind could unsettle her. Around her sat my four childhood friends, each positioned as if by instinct.

Evander sat the closest, a glass of warm water set within Elodie’s reach

Cassian leaned against the sofa, an unlit cigarette between his fingers, his expression cold.

Soren lifted his eyes to look at me, his gaze behind his glasses calm to the point of distance.

Dashiell was the most direct. He stood first and walked toward me with a smile.

“Well, look who finally decided to come home. Miss Ashbourne herself.”

If I had not heard those two lines from outside the door, this scene might have looked almost the same as before.

Then, in the next second, I saw the cocktail on the table.

It was The Ninth House’s signature drink, The Siren. In the past, I had been the only one who ordered it.

Now it sat beside Elodie, with a faint trace of her lipstick on the rim.

My gaze paused there for two seconds.

Dashiell followed my line of sight, then seemed to remember what it was. For once, his smile turned a little awkward.

“Elodie had never tried it, so I asked them to make one for her.”

“Nice.” I pulled out a chair and sat down. “It’s not as if my name is printed on the cocktail menu.”

Someone seemed to exhale softly, as if the fact that I had not flipped the table already counted as remarkable self-control.

Elodie stood, her voice gentle. “Miss Ashbourne, hello. I’m Elodie.”

I looked up at her. “Hello.”

She seemed surprised by my calmness. After a brief pause, she said in a smaller voice, “I’m sorry. I didn’t know tonight was your welcome dinner. I…”

“It’s fine,” I interrupted. “It’s not like you crashed the dinner.”

Dashiell was about to say something, but another socialite I barely knew laughed first.

“Miss Ashbourne is still the same. You still know how to command a room.”

She was complimenting me with her mouth, but her eyes kept drifting toward Elodie.

I could not be bothered with her.

The servers began bringing in the dishes. We had barely sat down before someone deliberately steered the conversation toward me.

“Sera, you were overseas for so many years, and you barely posted any photos. We thought you might never come back.”

“Right,” another girl chimed in even faster. “When Elodie first came around, everyone said she looked a little like you. Now that I see you both together, I guess it’s not really about looks. It’s more of a vibe. She’s more… how should I put it? She just makes people want to protect her more.”

Blythe’s eyes rolled so hard they nearly disappeared.

I picked up my fork and calmly took a piece of fish. “That just means you’ve all grown up. I see. Your taste has evolved into a charity project.”

The room went silent for a moment.

Dashiell let out a short laugh, but when Cassian shot him a cold look, he forced it back down.

Elodie’s face went pale. She hurried to explain, “That’s not what I meant…”

“Of course it isn’t.” I looked at her. “You’re not the interesting part here. They are.”

The air froze completely.

Cassian tossed his cigarette onto the table, his voice low. “Sera.”

“What?” I turned my head toward him.

“That’s enough.”

For some reason, I suddenly remembered something from years ago. Someone at school had secretly filmed me and posted it on the school message board, and Cassian had been the first one to wipe the post clean.

Back then, he had said that not everyone deserved to put the name Seraphina Ashbourne in their mouth.

Now he sat here and told me that was enough.

My lips curved. “Cassian Ward, since when do you get to police what comes out of my mouth?”

A trace of irritation moved through his eyes. “I just don’t want you to make things ugly the moment you come back.”

“Have I made anything ugly?”

No one answered, but every expression in the room seemed to say the same thing.

Not yet, but you’re about to.

Just then, Elodie reached for the glass of The Siren.

Whether from nerves or carelessness, her hand slipped, and the glass tipped over, spilling pale gold liquor across half her dress.

She shot to her feet, her eyes reddening at once.

Dashiell reacted first, handing her tissues. “It’s okay. Did it get on your skin?”

Evander had already risen to check the back of her hand.

Soren calmly swept the broken glass aside, his profile composed, but the way he shielded her was instinctive.

Cassian glanced at me. It lasted only a second, but I understood that look.

He was wondering whether Elodie’s accident had something to do with me.

How fascinating. I sat there without lifting a finger, and I had already become the first suspect.

Elodie lowered her head, her voice thick with tears. “I’m sorry. I’m so clumsy…”

Dashiell frowned. “It’s not your fault.”

After saying that, he looked at me as if he wanted to smooth things over, but his tone was anything but skillful.

“Sera, she didn’t mean to take that seat, and she didn’t know the drink mattered to you.”

I looked at him, and suddenly I didn’t even have the energy to be angry anymore.

“Dashiell.” I stood and picked up my purse. “From the moment I walked in until now, how many things have I actually said?”

He choked.

“But in your eyes, you’ve already convicted me of being jealous.”

I walked toward the door in my heels. When I pulled it open, the silence behind me was so complete you could hear a pin drop..

No one stopped me.

At the end of the hallway, Blythe caught up, her face flushed with anger. “Are they insane?”

I brushed my hair back. The strap of my purse had left a deep red mark across my palm, yet my voice was so calm that even I was surprised.

“Maybe.”

Blythe looked at me and softened her voice. “Sera, don’t let it hurt you.”

Standing in the bright, polished hallway of The Ninth House, I suddenly felt that New York’s nights were not much warmer than the ones overseas.

“I’m not hurt.” Only after I said it did I realize my voice had gone a little hoarse. “I just don’t understand.”

I did not understand how, after five years away, what they remembered was not what I liked to eat, not what I feared, not how much I had hated being wrongfully accused since we were young.

Instead, the first thing they remembered to do was guard another girl from me.

My phone buzzed then. A message had arrived from an unfamiliar number, only one simple line.

[Have you landed, fiancée?]

I stared at those words for those seconds, then smiled.

The people in that room probably never would have guessed it.

They were still afraid I had come back to fight over a man, while I had come home to get married.