Chapter 3

The moment Vivian left, I looked up the address of the Downtown Notary Public and caught a cab.

The receptionist was a bored twenty-something who barely looked up.

"I want to review the notary file for Arthur Sterling's will."

"Your relation to him?"

"I'm his granddaughter."

"These archives are confidential. You need the principal's consent or a court subpoena."

"The principal passed away."

"Then you can't see it," she said flatly, returning to her phone.

I took a deep breath. "Could you at least tell me which notary officer handled it? I just want to speak with them."

She glanced up, finally recognizing my face.

"Wait... you're Chloe Sterling?"

"Yes. That's me."

Without another word, she picked up her desk phone and dialed an extension.

After a quiet murmur, she hung up. "Wait over there."

I waited for nearly an hour.

The person who walked through the lobby doors wasn't a notary official.

It was Ryan.

Wearing a sharp charcoal overcoat, he walked in with confident strides, his expression dripping with agonized devotion.

"Chloe, what are you doing here?"

He reached for my arm. "I've been looking for you all morning. I was worried sick."

I stepped out of his reach.

Ryan turned to the receptionist with an apologetic smile. "Thank you for calling. My wife has been having some mental health struggles since her grandfather passed."

"If she comes here again to file anything, please notify me immediately."

The girl nodded warmly. "Of course, Mr. Vance."

"Ryan, what the hell are you playing at?"

"Chloe, let's go home."

"I'm not crazy! Stop putting on this sick show!"

My voice rose, catching the attention of everyone in the waiting room.

Ryan let out another one of his signature, long-suffering sighs—the classic posture of a saintly husband enduring a toxic wife.

"I'm so sorry, everyone," he said to the onlookers with an embarrassed smile. "She lost her father young, and now her grandfather... It's just been too much grief for her to process."

People in the lobby nodded sympathetically, casting judgmental glares at me while pitying Ryan.

Two security guards stepped forward.

"Ma'am, you need to lower your voice."

"I'm not causing trouble! I just want to see my grandfather's records!"

"Please step outside, ma'am," the guard insisted, gesturing to the exit.

Ryan spoke softly, "Chloe, let's just go home."

I looked at Ryan. The mask of tender concern on his face was completely airtight.

Without another word, I spun on my heel and walked out.

Behind me, I could hear Ryan politely thanking the security guards.

The biting wind hit my throat the moment I stepped outside.

Standing on the cold concrete steps, watching the endless stream of traffic, I let out a dry laugh.

*Ryan Vance, you really covered all your tracks, didn't you?*

*Too bad for you, I grew up beside Arthur Sterling. I know every corporate trick in the book.*

*The harder you try to paint me as a madwoman, the sharper my mind becomes.*