Chapter 2

In my past life, this house had burned to ash. And my parents — they had been driven to jump from the rooftop.

"Hey, what's all this? Who upset my little princess?" Mom rubbed my back gently, her voice full of tenderness.

I shook my head and forced the tears back down.

"Nothing. I just missed you guys."

I made a silent vow: in this life, anyone who dared to touch the Astor family — even slightly — I would make them pay with everything they had.

I had barely steadied myself when hurried footsteps sounded just outside the door.

Chloe walked in supporting Alexander, whose face was deathly pale and whose right hand was wrapped in thick bandages.

Chloe's eyes were red and swollen, looking utterly pitiful.

"Victoria, you're back," she said, glancing at me timidly. "I was passing by that off-the-books clinic on the south side of town and found Alexander badly hurt."

"I always thought you cared about him more than anyone. How could you just leave him there alone?"

"I couldn't bear to, so I brought him home. Please don't be upset with me for taking matters into my own hands."

In just a few sentences, she'd painted me as a cold-blooded, heartless woman who'd let someone die without lifting a finger.

And she was the kind, pure-hearted savior.

In my previous life, I fell for that fake-innocent act of hers.

I thought she was a sweet, well-behaved little sister. I had no idea she'd already been secretly involved with Alexander, the two of them plotting to strip the Astor family of everything.

Alexander leaned weakly against the doorframe, cold sweat soaking through his shirt.

He looked past Chloe, his gaze cutting straight toward me.

There was a hidden challenge in his eyes.

He was waiting for me to lose it — waiting for me to rush over and fuss over him with worried questions.

After all, in the past, even if he got the tiniest scratch, I'd be too anxious to sleep for the entire night.

Dad frowned. "Chloe, why are you bringing strangers home? What happened to his hand?"

Chloe's tears came tumbling down.

"Dad, Alexander is in such a bad way — someone slashed his hand. If I hadn't helped him, he could've bled out."

As she cried, she snuck glances at me, watching my reaction.

I sat on the sofa, picked up the cup of black tea the housekeeper had just brewed, and blew on it gently.

Alexander's brow furrowed deeply.

My calm was making him inexplicably irritated.

"Victoria." He finally couldn't hold back anymore. His voice was weak but laced with suppressed anger. "Are you done with your little tantrum?"

I set down my teacup and looked up at him.

"Alexander, who the hell do you think you are? You're not worth throwing a tantrum over."

My tone was completely flat, without a single ripple of emotion.

"If Chloe likes picking up strays, let her. The Astor estate is big enough — we can afford to feed one more."

Alexander's face turned ashen instantly.

He stared at me, his chest heaving violently. The movement pulled at his wound, and he sucked in a sharp breath from the pain.

Chloe was stunned too.

"Victoria, how could you say something like that about Alexander…"

"Shut up." I cut her off coldly. "You brought him here, so you pay his medical bills. Don't expect the Astor family to spend a single dime. And don't let him stain the Persian rugs — they're expensive."

With that, I stood up and walked straight toward the stairs.

As I passed Alexander, he suddenly shot out his left hand and tried to grab my wrist.

"Victoria, what the hell is wrong with you today!" he growled through gritted teeth.

I stepped aside and brushed off my sleeve with distaste.

"Don't touch me. You're filthy."

In the days that followed, Alexander naturally settled into one of the Astor family's guest rooms.

Chloe used looking after him as an excuse to hover around him all day long.

The two of them went everywhere together, exchanging glances and secret smiles.