Chapter 3

"Chloe, you look terrible. Did you not sleep well?"

The next morning, Tiffany walked in carrying a bag of cherries. She was wearing a camel cashmere coat.

I recognized that coat. First row, right side of my closet. Thirty-two thousand dollars.

She sat on the edge of my bed, her smile almost transparently sweet.

"William regretted what happened yesterday. He sat at home smoking all night without saying a word. He asked me to come and apologize for him because he was too embarrassed to face you."

"Embarrassed? He linked my cards to his phone and stole nearly two million dollars. You call that embarrassed?"

Tiffany’s smile froze for a split second before returning to normal. Her quick recovery proved she knew everything.

"Chloe, is there some mistake? William said all that money was spent on household expenses..."

"That penthouse has no mortgage. It was paid in full."

"Oh... then maybe it was used for something else. I’ll ask him for you."

She patted the back of my hand with just the right amount of pressure.

"I’m really on your side, Chloe. We’re like sisters."

Sisters. Calling me her sister while wearing my thirty-two-thousand-dollar coat. The same "sister" who acted as the emergency contact for a woman named Daisy Carter.

She waited for a response, but when I remained silent, she stood up to leave.

At the door, her phone rang. She glanced at the screen and quickly muted it.

But I caught a glimpse of the caller ID—a woman's selfie with a cute bunny-ear filter.

"Who’s calling?"

"Just a friend."

She practically ran out of the room.

Once the door closed, I sent a message to Uncle Arthur: "Check Tiffany Miller's social media accounts."

Twenty minutes later, he sent back a screenshot.

She had opened an eBay shop. Currently, she had seventeen items listed and forty-three recent sales.

All of them were high-end women's clothing.

One of them was a black evening gown. In the photo, you could see my initials embroidered on the inner lining.

There was also my wedding reception dress—the red embroidered gown.

I saved the screenshots and closed the app.

At two in the afternoon, the door was pushed open.

William walked in with Beatrice.

Behind them was a man in a gray suit carrying a briefcase. As soon as he entered, he looked for a table to set up his documents.

"This is my classmate, Lawyer Carter," William said, pointing at the man in the gray suit.

"He drafted a postnuptial agreement for us. Take a look. If there’s no problem, sign it."

Lawyer Carter pushed the papers toward me.

"Miss Vance, the main content of this agreement is to place all assets under joint management during the marriage—"

"Including pre-marital assets?"

He finally looked at me, hesitating for a moment.

"Yes."

"That's illegal."

"If both parties sign voluntarily—"

"Are you talking about 'voluntary' to a woman who is only six days postpartum from a C-section?"

Lawyer Carter fell silent.

William stood up.

"Chloe, what exactly do you want?"

"I’m not signing."

"Fine. Then I’m taking the baby."

He walked over to the crib and looked down.

Beatrice was already leaning down, reaching for the baby with practiced ease.

"Put her down."

"Chloe, why are you being so unreasonable?" Beatrice picked up the baby.

"What’s wrong with her being with her grandmother? You’re in no condition to care for her. Let me—"

I pressed the call button. Thirty seconds later, Nurse Brenda pushed the door open.

She looked at the baby in Beatrice’s arms, looked at my pale face, walked over, and firmly took the baby back.

"Mrs. Miller, our recovery center has strict security policies for newborns. Without the mother's written authorization, no one can take the child out of this room."

Beatrice’s face turned bright red.

"I am the baby's biological grandmother!"

"We only care about the authorization signature," Nurse Brenda said, putting the baby back in the crib and standing in front of it protectively.

William stared at me for five long seconds. Then, he waved his hand to Lawyer Carter and picked up the agreement from the table.

"Think about it, Chloe. I’ll be back tomorrow."

He walked to the door and turned around.

"By the way, I’ve checked the limit on your Amex Black Card.

I also know about your other accounts. The money you can actually use right now is less than ten thousand dollars."

His lips curled into a smirk.

"You can calculate for yourself if that’s enough to keep you in this place for six weeks."

The door closed.

The blood leaking from my incision had soaked through the gauze. Nurse Brenda was very gentle as she changed my dressing, not saying a word of gossip.

When she finished, she stood up.

"Miss Vance, have you considered calling the police?"

"It's not time yet, Brenda."

"Well, you should at least know one thing—when you were admitted, you signed an emergency authorization form listing your husband as your primary contact. This means if anything happens to you medically, he has the right to make decisions for you."

"Change it. Change it to myself."

"Understood."

She paused at the door and looked back.

"If they cause trouble again, I’ll block them outside for you."