Chapter 2

Chloe's POV

The next morning, Julian came to test me.

Leaning against the dining room doorway, he asked casually, "Did you sleep well last night?"

"Very well." I pushed the plate of toast toward his hand. "You came back late last night."

"Took her out for a late bite." His eyes stayed fixed on my face.

I handed him the butter. "Eat up before it gets cold."

Julian looked at me for two seconds, then smiled.

Just by handing him toast and butter, he believed I had fallen in line.

From that day on, he started bossing me around like a servant.

"Mia loves fresh-ground coffee. Make it every morning and bring it up to her."

"She's new here and doesn't know the layout. Give her a tour of the place."

"She likes the window-facing room next to my study. Move your things out."

Right in front of me, he held Mia's hand and brushed her hair behind her ear.

He scheduled his days down to the minute: which days he'd spend with her, and which days he'd stay with me.

I agreed to everything and followed every instruction.

That room by the window used to be mine, but I carried Mia's luggage into it with my own hands.

My hands stayed busy, my face completely blank.

Once at breakfast, I served a fried egg, and Mia pushed the plate back with a frown.

"I only eat them fully cooked."

I took it back to the kitchen to remake it.

When I brought it out again, Julian glanced over and said coldly, "She's a guest. Take this seriously."

I set the plate down. "Got it. I'll remember."

Mia shot me a smug look, nibbled at her egg, and leaned into Julian's chest coquettishly. "You're always the sweetest to me."

I turned around to clean the kitchen, washing dishes and wiping down the counters.

That night, he slapped two printed schedules down in front of me.

"Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays I'm with her. Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays I'm here." He tapped the paper with his knuckle. "Any objections?"

"None," I said.

"This weekend she wants to pick out some jewelry. You go along and carry her bags."

"Okay."

He nodded in satisfaction.

A few days later, Julian threw a high-profile banquet.

All the city's prominent socialites and elite showed up.

Under the crystal chandeliers, he held Mia's hand and led her to the center of the crowd, announcing publicly that from this day forward, Mia was his woman.

He raised his glass and declared, "I invited everyone here today to bear witness."

Scattered, hesitant applause rippled through the guests.

Someone leaned in close to my ear, whispering pseudo-comfortingly, "Chloe, just try to take it in stride."

I smiled faintly and said nothing.

That kind of advice sounded more like congratulating Mia than consoling me.

I stood at the edge of the crowd holding a glass of wine, my fingertips icy cold.

I knew what was coming next, but I kept my back straight and waited.

Julian turned around and extended his hand toward me.

I walked over.

He slipped the heirloom ring off my ring finger.

Years ago, he had put that very ring on my finger himself.

Back then, he said it was the symbol of the lady of this house, and he wanted the entire city to see it.

The ring got stuck at my knuckle. He gripped my finger, twisted it twice, and yanked it off by force.

The entire hall fell dead silent.

I looked at his hands, not pulling away.

Once the ring rested in his palm, he turned and slid it onto Mia's ring finger.

"From now on, this belongs to her," he said.

Mia's eyes shone with greedy excitement.

With a grand wave of his hand, he publicly announced four lavish gifts prepared just for Mia. With each item he named, people in the room gasped in awe.

Mia held the ring up under the chandelier lights, tilting her head to ask Julian, "Does it look good?"

"Beautiful," Julian said, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "You look gorgeous in everything."

Someone in the crowd let out a nervous chuckle, then quickly choked it back.

I listened as the names of those extravagant gifts spilled from his lips.

Years ago, when he wanted the whole city to see me wear that ring, he invited this exact same crowd.

Today, those same people were watching the ring change owners.

Whatever he gave away, he could take back whenever he pleased—even if it meant twisting it painfully off my knuckle.

Mia glanced sideways at me and smirked. "Chloe always carries that wooden comb around with her. It looks pretty unique."

All eyes instantly shifted toward me.

That comb was left to me by my grandmother. I had used it since childhood and never parted with it.

I hid the comb behind my back.

"Not this," I said firmly.

Mia's smile dropped, and she looked over at Julian.

Julian didn't even flinch.

He stepped forward and reached out to pry my fingers open.

I gripped it tightly, refusing to let go, so he peeled my fingers back one by one, snatched the comb away, and dropped it into Mia's hand.

"Here, play with it," he said.

My hand was empty.

That comb had nothing to do with him.

I had it long before I ever entered this house. He could take back anything he gave me, but this comb wasn't from him.

Every morning when I brushed my hair, I felt like my grandmother was still by my side.

He took even that away, tossing it to someone else just to "play with."

Mia clutched the comb, lifting her chin at me triumphantly.

The entire room was watching to see how I would react.

I lowered my eyes, turned around, and walked out of the crowd.

I didn't care about the ring. I didn't care about the status. But I was getting that comb back tonight, no matter what.

Before the party ended, Mia announced she was going upstairs to change. I followed her up.

I wanted to catch her alone and offer one of my own jewelry pieces in exchange for my comb.

I pushed open the door to Mia's room.

The main lights were off, leaving only a small bedside lamp glowing.

Mia was touching up her makeup in front of the vanity. She twirled the wooden comb between her fingers and, without even looking, shoved it carelessly into a vase on the table.

"The wood is practically cracking. I have no idea why she treats it like some precious treasure," Mia muttered to the mirror. "Julian only keeps her around out of old habit. Give it a few more weeks, and nobody will even remember her name."

She chuckled at her reflection. "Still thinks she's the lady of the house. Pitiful."

I leaned against the doorframe, standing there for a long time.

The very thing I had clutched until my fingers were bruised, refusing to let go in front of everyone, was treated like trash by Mia.

Mia caught sight of me in the mirror. "Chloe? What are you standing there for? Come on in."