Chapter 4

By the time I returned to the estate, it was already late afternoon.

I lingered in the foyer for a moment. As I bent down to change into my slippers, my eyes caught a framed drawing still taped to the side of the shoe cabinet.

It was a yellowed piece of paper Chloe had drawn as a little girl. Three stick figures stood side by side beneath crooked lines, with words scrawled in crayon: *Daddy, Mommy, and Me.*

I stared at that drawing for a long time. Then, I reached out, peeled it off, tore it cleanly down the middle, and tossed it into the trash can.

"Martha."

Martha, the housekeeper, hurried out of the kitchen, flour dusting her hands. Seeing the icy look on my face, she froze.

"Ma'am, why are you home so early? Isn't the wedding..."

"Pack up every single belonging of the young lady and Mr. Miller. Leave nothing behind. Do it immediately."

Martha stared in shock, her mouth opening as if to protest, but one look at my expression made her swallow her words. She turned around to fetch storage bins right away.

I walked up to the second floor. Passing Chloe's bedroom, my footsteps paused.

Her door was wide open. The room was decorated like a fairy-tale princess suite—blush pink curtains, a white vintage vanity, and a neat row of designer plushies I had bought for her lining the headboard.

I stepped inside, standing in the center of the room to look around.

The walls were covered in framed photographs spanning from when she was ten to twenty years old. Every single one had been taken by me.

As I turned to leave, my gaze swept across the walk-in closet.

The door was half-open, revealing a bespoke red designer dress hanging inside.

She had worn that to her college graduation; I had specially commissioned an overseas designer to custom-make it for her.

She had taken countless photos in that dress, posting them to Instagram with the caption: *The best mother in the entire world.*

That Instagram post had featured a selfie of the two of us smiling together.

Yet, six months ago, she had begun to change.

She stopped answering my calls, left my messages on read, and made up endless excuses whenever I invited her out to dinner.

I had assumed she was simply too busy falling in love, and I was genuinely happy for her.

Now I finally understood: by that time, Brenda had already sunk her claws into her.

And I had known nothing. I had spent those months moving heaven and earth to organize her dream wedding, thinking only of how to give her a life of luxury and prestige.

I turned and walked out of the bedroom, running into Martha at the threshold.

"Ma'am, most of the things are packed."

"Move everything into the garage. Tell them to pick it up within three days. If they don't, throw it all in the dumpster."

Martha nodded, carrying the heavy boxes downstairs.

I headed down to the living room and sat down on the leather sofa.

Just then, frantic footsteps echoed from the foyer.

"Mom! Mom!"

Chloe burst through the front door.

"Mom, I was wrong! Please forgive me, please!"

"I was tricked by that woman! She told me she was sorry, that she wanted to make it up to me, that she wanted her daughter back. I was an idiot and believed her!"

She sobbed hysterically, gasping for air.

"In my heart, you've always been my real mother! I just lost my mind for a second. I know I messed up, please don't abandon me!"

I shifted sideways on the sofa, deliberately putting distance between us.

"Martha has already packed your things. Move them out within three days."