Chapter 4

"Boom."

A deafening crack of thunder shook the house, followed by a bright flash of lightning.

I looked at Julian’s enraged face, and then at Vivian, who was smirking triumphantly from his chest.

Suddenly, I shook my head and burst into laughter.

Julian froze. "What..."

I didn't give him a chance to speak. I calmly wiped my mouth, grabbed my purse, and walked straight out into the pouring rain.

I opened the umbrella—the very one I had refused to give him—and stepped into the storm. The wind whipped rain against my side, making me shiver violently.

But my footsteps were steady and resolute.

"Crack."

Another flash of lightning lit up the sky.

The sudden boom seemed to shock Julian back to reality. Hearing the torrential downpour outside, a flicker of guilt crossed his mind. She was pregnant, after all, and it was a dangerous storm.

Panic gripped his chest, and he made a move to chase after me.

But Vivian immediately clung to his arm.

"Julian, don't go. The thunder is so loud. I'm terrified."

Julian patted her arm, trying to pry her hands off him. He gentled his voice.

"It's fine, Vivian. There are plenty of housekeepers here."

"Chloe is pregnant. I need to go after her."

But Vivian only held on tighter, her tears flowing freely.

"Julian, do you not love me anymore?"

"I was forced to marry your father when my heart always belonged to you. You promised you'd take care of me. Now that Chloe treats me like garbage, are you really going to abandon me for her?"

Julian hesitated. The silence stretched between them.

Ultimately, he stopped.

He turned back to comfort Vivian, whispering softly, "Don't worry. I'm right here."

But his eyes remained glued to the storm raging outside the window.

Once Vivian calmed down, Julian tried calling me.

No answer.

Three calls, all sent straight to voicemail.

Vivian suppressed her triumphant smile and leaned against his chest, testing the waters.

"Julian... do you think Chloe is too angry to show up tomorrow? She's pregnant, after all. What if she doesn't come? Maybe you should text her and apologize."

Julian’s gaze flickered, but his stubborn pride won out.

"Apologize?" he scoffed, trying to convince himself. "She was the one in the wrong. If I apologize now, she'll walk all over me for the rest of our lives."

"Don't worry. She loves me too much to ruin our wedding. She’s probably just cooling off at our new mansion. She'll be there tomorrow."

Julian was dead wrong.

I was at the airport.

Ten minutes ago, I boarded a plane. I didn't care about the destination.

I had simply walked up to the counter and asked for the next available flight out of the city.

At 3:20 AM, my flight landed.

I received two text messages.

The first was from Mark, the PI:

[Everything is set, Chloe.]

The second was from Julian:

[I was a bit harsh earlier. Get some rest. I'll pick you up at the mansion tomorrow morning.]

I didn't reply to either. My eyelids were heavy with exhaustion.

I checked into a hotel near the airport, pulled the covers over my head, and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

At 7:00 AM, the Sterling estate was a flurry of activity. The groomsmen were laughing and drinking, urging Julian to get moving.

But as Julian stared at his unanswered texts, an uneasy feeling gnawed at his gut.

Vivian walked over, adjusting her dress. "Julian, what's wrong? You look pale."

"Did Chloe still not reply?"

Julian shook his head.

Then, his eyes fell on Vivian’s outfit. He frowned.

She was wearing a stunning, shimmering crimson gown. It was gorgeous, but entirely inappropriate.

"Vivian, go change into something else."

"Today is my wedding with Chloe. Why are you dressed like that?"

Vivian lowered her eyes, her lips trembling as she prepared to play the victim again.

But before she could speak, one of the groomsmen chimed in.

"Yeah, Vivian, that dress is a bit much. Today is Julian's big day. You're his stepmother; you should dress a bit more modestly. That dress looks... a bit too desperate."

"Exactly," another added. "You're his stepmother. Wearing a gown like that to his wedding is just weird."

"And there are going to be media outlets outside," a third pointed out. "Vivian, don't hold Julian's arm today. If the paparazzi catch that, the rumors will ruin the Sterling family name."

With everyone agreeing and Julian staying silent, Vivian had no choice but to angrily change into a plain, conservative dress.

On the way to the new mansion, Julian's assistant called.

"Mr. Sterling, the security guards said they saw a bunch of people entering the mansion around 2:00 AM to set things up. They said Ms. Miller hired them. She should be inside."

The heavy knot in Julian’s chest finally unraveled, and a smug grin crept onto his face.

But when the wedding fleet arrived at the mansion, the place was dead silent. There were no wedding decorations, no flowers, nothing.

It didn't look like a wedding venue at all.

Julian felt a twinge of unease, but remembering his assistant's words, he forced a smile and waved his hand.

"Let's go! Time to get my bride!"

But there was no bridesmaid's challenge, no locked doors.

The front door was slightly ajar. With a light push, the groomsmen and guests spilled into the foyer.

"Bang! Bang! Bang!"

Dozens of party poppers exploded simultaneously.

But it wasn't confetti that filled the air.

It was photos.

Thousands of high-definition photos rained down like snow. Photos of Julian and Vivian embracing, kissing, and even tangled together in bed.

Julian froze, every drop of blood draining from his face.

He stared at a photo that landed right at his feet.

In the photo, he and Vivian were passionately kissing in the private lounge of his late father's funeral service.

Beneath the photo, a line of text was printed:

[Julian, wishing you and your stepmother a very happy wedding!]