Chapter 4

The next day, at the seven-star hotel owned by Kensington Group.

Everyone of note in our circle had gathered for the wedding of the century.

In the dressing room, I looked at my flawlessly made-up face in the mirror, my eyes clear and cold.

“Blair, you look stunning today!”

Chloe walked in wearing her bridesmaid dress, lightly made up, a designer bag on her arm, beaming as she came up behind me.

“This gown is couture. Victor really spared no expense for you.”

As she spoke, she very naturally touched her slightly rounded belly.

If I hadn't seen those messages, I'd never have noticed that unconscious, protective little gesture.

“He really did put a lot of ‘thought’ into me.” I watched her reflection with a faint, knowing smile.

Chloe froze for a beat, as if my gaze cut a little too sharp.

But she covered quickly and pulled a red gift box out of her bag.

“Blair, I went to the church and had this cross blessed especially for you.”

“You haven't been well lately, always forgetting things. The pastor said this will keep you safe and keep your mind clear.”

She pressed the cross into my hand, her smile all sincerity.

“You have to keep it on you at all times.”

I looked at the cheap little cross in my hand.

Inside, I was sneering.

Giving me a cross? Was she afraid I wasn't dying fast enough — or testing whether I'd noticed something was wrong?

“Thanks, Chloe.” I casually tossed the cross into the trash can beside me.

“But I don't believe in any of that. Besides, with Victor around, what could possibly happen to me?”

Chloe stared at the cross in the trash, her face stiffening.

“Blair, you… why would you throw it away? That was a heartfelt gift.”

“Sorry, I'm a hard-nosed realist.” I shot her a cold glance.

Just then, the dressing room door opened.

Victor walked in wearing a sharply tailored white tuxedo, every inch the storybook prince.

“Blair, are you ready? The ceremony's about to start.”

He came to my side, his eyes flicking between me and Chloe.

Chloe instantly put on a wounded expression and shot him a hesitant look.

Victor gave her an almost invisible signal, then turned to me.

“Blair, before the ceremony starts, there's a small document I need you to sign.”

He pulled a folded document from his inner pocket and held it out to me.

“What is this?” I asked, though I knew full well.

“It's a full power of attorney.” Victor's voice was dripping with tenderness.

“You haven't been well lately, and the doctor says you need a long rest — you can't overexert yourself.”

“Running Kensington Group is exhausting. I don't want you wearing yourself out.”

“Just hand the company over to me for a while. You can simply relax and be my Mrs. Thorne, all right?”

He pressed a diamond-studded pen into my hand.

“Sign it. We've got hundreds of guests and the press out there waiting for us.”