Chapter 5

Elara Vance POV

The next day, Chloe moved into the villa.

Julian gave her the master bedroom, changing the bedding to Chloe's favorite pure white.

I was relegated to the cold, damp guest room on the first floor.

I was like a transparent ghost, forced to watch Julian's extreme devotion to another woman in this "love nest" that once belonged to me.

At lunch, Julian pushed Chloe into the dining room.

He skillfully cut her steak into small, precisely 1.5-centimeter pieces – the size I used to prefer. He tested the soup's temperature with his wrist, and only after confirming it wasn't too hot, carefully spoon-fed it to Chloe.

"Chloe, careful, it's hot," his voice was so gentle it could drip with sweetness.

I stood in the corner, quietly watching this scene.

It turned out that what I thought was "exclusive devotion," those details I drowned in, were merely a program he could copy and paste onto anyone at any time.

My profound love, from beginning to end, had been a joke.

Chloe ate a few bites, then suddenly turned her head, looking at me in the corner, a hint of malice playing on her lips.

"Julian, I'd like to hear some cello," Chloe said softly. "I used to play for you, but now my hands are useless… could Miss Vance play for me?"

Julian's movements froze.

He turned to look at me, his eyes cold. "Go get the cello."

I stood still. "I haven't played in a long time."

"I told you to get the cello!" Julian's voice suddenly rose. "You owe Chloe, and you'll never be able to repay it! You're not even willing to play for her?"

I looked at the disgust in his eyes and suddenly felt incredibly weary.

I no longer resisted, turning to the storage room to get the cello.

It was an heirloom from my mother, a treasure I once valued more than my life.

I sat in the center of the living room, and in front of Julian and Chloe, I drew the bow across the strings.

Because I hadn't practiced intensely for so long, coupled with the old injuries from my secret rehabilitation for his surprise, my fingers started to bleed in less than ten minutes.

Blood flowed from my fingertips, staining the strings and dripping onto the expensive carpet.

Every finger linked to my heart, an agonizing pain shot through me, yet I didn't even frown.

I mechanically played the cello, my eyes empty, staring straight ahead.

Before, if I even got a small paper cut, he would be so distressed he wouldn't sleep all night. But now, though he clenched his fists, he averted his gaze.

"Enough!" Julian suddenly interrupted me impatiently. "That sounds terrible. Do you want Chloe to have nightmares? Get back to your room!"

I stopped playing.

I silently wiped the blood from the strings, hugged the cello, and limped back to the cold guest room.

As I closed the door, I heard Chloe's delicate voice from the living room, "Julian, don't be angry, Miss Vance didn't mean to…"

I leaned against the back of the door, slowly sliding down.

I looked at my bloodied hands and suddenly laughed.

These hands, which had once cooked countless delicious meals for him, which had sketched countless portraits of him, now could only be used to satisfy his hatred.