Chapter 2

Leaving the funeral, I drove straight to the Sterling family estate.

I pushed open the door. Thomas, our old butler, was quietly packing Grandpa’s clothes into a carton.

"Thomas."

His hands froze. Keeping his back to me, he murmured, "Miss Chloe, you're back."

"I need to ask you something. Did Grandpa mention anything to you about a will in his final days?"

Thomas didn't turn around.

He folded a sweater, smoothed it out, and folded it again. Over and over.

"Thomas?"

"Miss Chloe, I don't know anything."

He finally turned, his eyes darting away from mine. "I'm just the butler. I don't poke my nose where it doesn't belong."

"Whatever you know, tell me."

"I swear, I know nothing."

He ducked his head, practically scurrying toward the door. "I have chores to do. You should go home and rest, Miss Chloe."

He bolted out of the room like a hunted man.

Standing alone in Grandpa’s empty bedroom, my fists clenched tight.

Thomas knew something. But he was terrified.

When I returned to the penthouse I shared with Ryan, he was already there.

A bowl of fresh cherries and a bouquet of white roses sat on the coffee table.

Ryan emerged from the kitchen carrying a bowl of hot soup, wearing a tender smile.

"You're back? I made your favorite sweet corn and rib soup. Drink it while it's warm."

I didn't take it.

"Sit down. We need to talk."

Ryan let out a soft sigh, set the bowl down, and sat beside me.

His hand rested on my knee.

"Chloe, I know you had a terrible day. But the will was processed legally by Lawyer Miller. Fighting it will only embarrass you."

"Grandpa wouldn't want to see you like this."

"How would you know what he wanted?"

Ryan looked at me with endless patience. "I was by his bedside until his last breath."

"He told me with his own mouth that he was worried the Sterling Group would crush you. He asked me to take the helm."

"He would never hand the entire empire over to you."

"Chloe..."

Ryan took my hand, his face etched with concern. "Have you been under too much stress lately?"

"I know a great psychiatrist. Let me make an appointment for tomorrow, okay?"

I yanked my hand back. "I am not crazy."

He stared at me for a few beats, then let out a long, weary sigh.

"Fine. If you don't want to go, we won't."

He stood up, looking utterly defeated. "Just stop causing scenes, please? I'm going to bed. The soup is on the counter if you get hungry."

He shook his head and walked into the master bedroom, his silhouette looking like that of a martyr suffering a hysterical wife.

The next morning, Vivian came over.

She brought a bag of fresh fruit and wrapped me in a tight hug the moment she walked in.

"Chloe, are you holding up?"

"I heard what happened yesterday. My heart breaks for you."

She pulled me onto the sofa, her eyes welling with tears, looking even more devastated than me.

"Ryan told me everything."

"Chloe, I know how much you miss Arthur. But the will is done. Don't make things impossible for Ryan."

I studied her face, remembering the eight years of friendship we shared, all the secrets we used to whisper.

"You think I'm just throwing a fit?"

"Of course not!" Vivian corrected quickly, squeezing my arm. "I'm worried about you."

"Think about it. You and Ryan are married. What's his is yours anyway. Why draw such a harsh line?"

As she spoke, her phone lit up on the couch.

A notification banner popped up:

*From: R.*

I couldn't read the full preview, but that initial was unmistakable.

Vivian instantly flipped her phone face-down with a casual smile.

"Spam text. So annoying."

Her expression was flawless.

I pretended not to notice.

"Vivian, do you think I should see a therapist?"

She blinked, then nodded vigorously. "Yes! Absolutely!"

"Ryan told me he reached out to the best clinic in the city. He's doing it out of love, Chloe. Don't push him away."

I gave a faint nod. "Okay. I'll think about it."