Chapter 3

It was 11:00 PM when I dragged my exhausted body back to the private estate Brandon and I shared.

The moment I pushed open the front door, shrill laughter grated on my ears from the living room.

"Oh, Chloe, darling!"

"You're carrying the Hayes family's precious heir in that tummy of yours!"

"Drink up this bird's nest soup. Keep yourself nourished."

"You're a hundred times better than that useless Serena."

"A barren hen that can't even lay an egg!"

Frowning, I slipped off my heels and stepped into the living room.

Lounging on the Italian leather sofa was Brandon’s mother, Martha Hayes.

She was clutching Chloe’s hand, grinning from ear to ear.

The marble coffee table was covered in expensive supplements.

Worse, dozens of my designer handbags, skincare products, and jewelry boxes had been ripped out of my closet and tossed carelessly across the hardwood floor.

Brandon sat beside them, lovingly peeling an apple for Chloe.

The second they heard my footsteps, all three froze.

Martha's face curdled instantly into sheer malice.

"You still have the nerve to show your face here?"

She sprang up from the sofa, pointing an accusatory finger at me.

"You shameless parasite!"

"My son offered you a hundred million dollars! Why haven't you signed the divorce papers?"

"Are you trying to cling to our family and steal our wealth?!"

I looked at the wreckage of my personal belongings scattered across the floor.

A cold fury ignited in my chest.

"This is my home," I said, my tone glacial.

"Why wouldn't I come back?"

"Your home?"

Martha laughed as if she had just heard the joke of the century.

"My son bought this mansion! His name is on the deed!"

"What the hell does this place have to do with you?"

"Pack your trash and get out!"

"Clear out the master bedroom right now so Chloe can rest and nourish her pregnancy!"

She lunged forward, hands outstretched to shove me.

I simply stepped aside.

Her hands grabbed empty air, momentum sending her stumbling violently forward.

"Oh, my God!"

"She's attacking me!"

"The wicked daughter-in-law is beating an old woman!"

Martha threw herself dramatically onto the floor, wailing and thrashing like a toddler having a tantrum.

Seeing this, Brandon dropped his knife and apple.

He charged forward, snatching the collar of my silk blouse.

"Serena! Are you out of your mind?!"

"You dare put your hands on my mother?!"

"Do you want me to call the cops and have you thrown in jail?!"

Looking into his furious, twisted face, I felt the sheer absurdity of it all.

"Did you actually see me touch her?"

"She tripped over her own two feet. Are you going to blame that on me too?"

Chloe hurried over, playing the tender peacemaker.

She gently helped Martha to her feet, her eyes glistening with fresh tears.

"Serena, Martha is an elderly woman."

"How could you treat her like this?"

"If anyone is at fault, it's me."

"Blame me, hate me, but please don't take your anger out on Brandon's poor mother!"

She squeezed out two delicate teardrops.

Her saintly act made my stomach churn with pure disgust.

"Chloe, cut the pathetic soap opera."

"If you want this house so badly, fine. Keep it. I'm leaving."

I ripped Brandon's hand off my collar.

I walked straight toward the display cabinet in the corner of the room.

That cabinet held the only heirlooms my late parents had left behind for me:

A pair of priceless 18th-century antique French crystal vases.

Handed down from my great-grandfather.

Even when Brandon and I were so broke we couldn't afford groceries, I had refused to sell them.

I opened the cabinet door.

It was completely empty.

My entire body went rigid.

I snapped my head around, glaring at them.

"Where are my vases?"