The church was cold and nearly empty. Chloe stood beside her father's casket, the polished wood reflecting the muted light from the stained-glass windows. Arthur Hayes, a man who once commanded boardrooms and held the city's elite in the palm of his hand, was now reduced to a photograph and a handful of whispers. Most of the attendees were not friends, but vultures-former business rivals and fair-weather associates, here to witness the final nail in the Hayes family coffin.

The pastor's words about life and resurrection were a meaningless drone in her ears. Her world had already ended the moment she'd read that text. All that remained was a profound, hollow numbness. After the service, the guests began to file out, but Chloe remained anchored to the casket. She pressed her hand against the polished wood, the cold surface seeping into her skin, grounding her in the immense, dark reality of her loss.

The heavy oak doors of the church creaked open, cutting through the somber quiet.

Julian Sinclair and Janet Bell walked in.

Janet was clinging to Julian's arm, her head resting delicately on his shoulder. They were a portrait of devoted companionship, an image so grotesquely out of place that it felt like a desecration.

Chloe's fingernails dug into her palms, the sharp crescents leaving bloody marks. How dare they? Were they here to gloat? To flaunt their victory over her father's casket?

Janet detached herself from Julian and glided towards Chloe, her face a mask of perfectly calibrated sorrow. "Chloe," she whispered, her eyes welling with crocodile tears. "I'm so sorry about Uncle Arthur. He..."

She reached out as if to touch Chloe's arm, but stopped, her performance flawless. "You mustn't be too sad. After... after this is all over, you should come and live with us. Julian and I will take care of you."

The words were soft, gentle, and laced with the deadliest poison. Take care of you. Like a stray animal they'd magnanimously decided not to put down. A wave of nausea rolled through Chloe.

Julian stood a few feet away, his expression unreadable, watching the scene unfold as if he were a disinterested spectator. His presence alone sucked the air from the room, making it feel small and suffocating. Every eye was on the three of them.

"It was Uncle Arthur's dying wish," Janet continued, her voice trembling slightly. "He wanted to see you and Julian get along. He told us to take good care of you."

Chloe didn't believe it for a second. A cold, harsh laugh escaped her lips. "My father's greatest wish," she said, her voice low but carrying clearly in the silent church, "was for you to stay away from his son-in-law."

She looked from Janet's paling face to Julian's impassive one. "Are you here to make sure he's really dead? So you can enjoy everything you stole from him with a clear conscience?"

Janet's face crumpled. She stumbled back, collapsing against Julian's chest like a fragile doll. "That's not what I meant, Chloe, how could you think that of me? Uncle Arthur was like a father to me, too. I'm here to pay my respects."

"Pay your respects?" Chloe's voice dripped with scorn. "I'm afraid my father wouldn't be able to rest in peace knowing you were here. Whether it was a misunderstanding or not doesn't matter anymore. You already have everything you wanted."

Julian's brow furrowed. He finally spoke, his tone laced with impatience. "That's enough, Chloe. This is not the place. Your father did ask me to look after you. After the funeral, I'll make the arrangements."

He called him 'your father'. Not 'Dad'. Not even 'Arthur'. In three years of marriage, he had never once shown her father that basic respect. The last fragile thread holding Chloe's composure together snapped.

"Get out," she hissed, pointing a trembling finger at the door. The whisper escalated into a raw, ragged scream that echoed off the stone walls. "Both of you, get out of here!"

The few remaining guests stared, shocked by the outburst. The sanctity of the funeral was shattered.

Janet, looking genuinely stunned by this new, ferocious Chloe, let out a small, frightened gasp. Instantly, Julian's arm tightened around her, pulling her protectively into his embrace. He shot Chloe one last look, a look of cold, utter disdain, and then, without another word, he turned and led Janet out of the church.

He didn't hesitate. He didn't look back.

Chloe watched them go, the strength that had fueled her anger vanishing in an instant. Her legs gave out, and she sank to her knees on the cold stone floor, clutching the edge of her father's casket. The heavy silence of the church pressed in on her, and she was completely, terrifyingly alone.

In Julian's stark, minimalist office overlooking Central Park, Janet was weeping softly into a silk handkerchief. "It's all my fault," she sobbed, her shoulders shaking. "I shouldn't have gone. I only made things worse. Chloe must hate me."

She clutched at the sleeve of his custom-tailored suit. "Julian, maybe we should just... end this. I don't want you to be in this difficult position because of me."

Julian's expression was grim as he patted her shoulder awkwardly. "It's not your fault. She's being irrational." He urged her to believe that he would convince Chloe to come live with them, so they could all take care of her together.

He walked over to a concealed safe behind a Rothko painting and retrieved a thin file. "This is an addendum to Arthur's will," he said, his voice flat. "He made me promise to provide for Chloe's well-being until she remarries.If I manage to do this, most of his hidden assets will become mine. That’s why I’m pushing for a divorce now. Once the divorce is finalized, I can arrange a suitable marriage for her, and then everything will be settled."

The memory was still vivid. Arthur Hayes, stripped of his power and prestige, sitting across from him in a prison visitation room, a broken man. He had begged, his voice raspy with desperation. "Julian, you have to take care of Chloe for me. She's never known hardship. These three years abroad... they must have been hell for her. Bring her home."

Then, the ultimate humiliation. Arthur had slid off his chair and knelt on the grimy floor, pressing his forehead to the ground. "I'm sorry. I never should have forced you to marry her. I ruined both your lives. When she comes back, let her go. Just... just take care of her for me."

"So, you see," Julian explained to Janet,"I am bound by that promise until we can legally dissolve the marriage."

The scene shifted. As Chloe was leaving the cemetery, a familiar figure approached her. It was Mr. Bell, Janet's father, a man who had been her own father's loyal right hand for decades. He had been following her since the airport, waiting for the right moment.

His face was etched with a weary sadness. "Miss Chloe," he began, his voice heavy with regret. "You've misunderstood Mr. Sinclair."

Chloe stiffened, not wanting to hear another defense of that man. But she had learned something over the past three years: never show your hand. She forced herself to look curious, even sympathetic.

Inside, she knew exactly who Mr. Bell worked for now. Julian had turned him long ago.

"Your father... he used your marriage as leverage for that final bailout, Miss Chloe," Mr. Bell continued, feeding her the same lies Julian had scripted. "And Julian secretly absorbed most of the company's toxic debt. He's been protecting you all along."

The world tilted on its axis. Not because she believed him, what she really wanted to know was: Since she had ended up like this, why wouldn’t they leave her alone? What exactly did they want?

"Tell me everything," she said, her voice trembling with fake confusion. "I want to understand."

Mr. Bell hesitated, his gaze dropping to the ground as if the next words were too painful to speak. "Three years ago... that night your father called you to the charity gala... he was planning to introduce you to an old European aristocrat."

Chloe's blood ran cold.

"He had a plan to save the family. But you... you ran off to confess your feelings to Mr. Sinclair. When your father found out, he was furious. He said you had destroyed his last hope."

The memories flooded back, sharp and agonizing. The nervous energy as she'd cornered Julian by the terrace, the city lights twinkling below.

The way she'd poured out her heart, only for him to reject her with cold, clinical precision, telling her he was in love with Janet.They truly love each other and have plans to get married.

Chloe was stunned as if struck by lightning. She and Janet had grown up together since childhood. Back then, Chloe was the beloved noble lady , while Janet was merely an unremarkable follower at her side.

Mr. Bell worked under her father, and his mother served as a nanny in their household. In effect, Janet grew up in their home, and the two were very close.

As a child, there were even rumors that Janet was her maid. She went so far as to find the person who spread those rumors and gave them a thorough beating as a warning. She truly relied on Janet like a sister. She even told Janet that she liked Julian, and Janet always helped her figure out ways to get Julian’s attention.

Janet. Her shadow, her confidante, the girl whose family worked for hers. The one person she had trusted with her secret crush on Julian. Janet, who had always encouraged her, helped her scheme, pushed her to be bold.

But in the end, her closest sister and the man she loved were having an affair behind her back, without her knowing anything.

Even after they got married, she couldn’t see Julian often—he was too busy to spend time with her. It wasn’t until later that she overheard Julian on the phone saying, “If it weren’t for Chloe getting in the way, I would’ve married Janet already. So, three years from now, I’ll bring Janet home.”

“Whether you agree or not, I’ve made up my mind about her.” Hearing these words, Chloe felt as though the world had collapsed around her.

Hearing those words had shattered her. The frantic, tear-blinded drive in the rain, the screech of tires, the crash. The accident that injured Janet and became the official reason for her banishment to Europe. Before leaving, she never saw Janet again. She wanted to ask, “Julian, if you really like her, then why did you marry me?”

Now she knew.

The memories flooded back, sharp and agonizing. Now she saw them for what they were: a carefully constructed narrative to make her feel guilty, to make her believe Julian was the hero.

She knew the truth: her father had been framed for embezzlement by Julian and Janet, and Mr. Bell was their puppet. The story about the aristocrat, the debts, the sacrifice—all of it was a trap to make her lower her guard.

A wave of shame so profound it made her physically sick washed over her. She would not accept his charity. She would rather starve on the streets than take another dollar from him.

"Thank you, Mr. Bell," she said softly, wiping a fake tear. "I think I understand now. I've been so foolish."

As he walked away, satisfied with his work, Chloe stood still in one place for a long time，she would find a way to expose them all. But not yet. First, she needed to play along.