Chapter 4

*Who are you talking about? Just say it clearly,* I texted back.

She didn't reply right away.

I sat at the kitchen bar, finished my burnt egg, and drank a glass of milk.

My stomach settled, and my mind cleared up a bit.

Ten minutes later, Serena texted again.

*Chloe, text isn't the best way to explain this. Can we meet up?*

I didn't reply.

I left my phone on the counter and washed my hands.

Thomas walked in, holding a folder.

"Miss Chloe, your grandfather wanted you to look over this before the legal team arrives tomorrow. Just so you're prepared."

I dried my hands and took the folder.

It was a copy of my divorce agreement with Ethan. Sticky notes were attached to it with Grandpa’s handwriting: *Clause 3 and Clause 7. Major red flags.*

I flipped to Clause 3.

*“All marital assets accumulated during the marriage shall be solely managed and disposed of by Party A (Ethan Vance).”*

Clause 7.

*“Party B (Chloe Sterling) voluntarily waives all rights to division of marital property.”*

I stared at those two clauses.

I hadn't read them closely last night. He handed it to me, and I just signed.

My hands were sticky with orange juice, he wiped them clean, handed me the pen, and I signed.

"Miss Chloe, do you know what Ethan did in your name during your marriage?"

Thomas’s voice was calm, like he was reading the weather forecast.

"What do you mean?"

"After Ethan married you three years ago, he used your name as a spouse to secure three massive mortgage loans against assets registered under your name."

I blinked.

"I have assets under my name?"

Thomas looked at my blank expression and went quiet for two seconds.

"Miss Chloe... you didn't know?"

"Know what?"

He didn't answer. He just turned and walked away.

I stood in the kitchen, clutching the agreement.

Three massive properties.

Under my name.

I didn't even know I owned anything.

I said my brain runs a half-beat behind, but this was on a whole different level.

I ran upstairs to Grandpa’s study. The door was closed.

I knocked twice.

"Come in."

"Grandpa, Thomas said three of my assets were mortgaged."

Grandpa was pouring tea. His hand was incredibly steady.

"You didn't know?"

"No."

He set the teapot down and looked at me.

"Before your mother passed away, she transferred everything she owned into your name. A massive commercial plot on the West Side, two office towers Downtown, and a trust fund."

My mouth fell open.

"How much is all of that worth?"

Grandpa picked up his teacup and blew on it.

"Not much. Just about ten times Ethan’s nine-hundred-million-dollar debt."

The clink of his cup against his teeth was very quiet.

I stood there, my brain short-circuiting.

"To protect you from fortune hunters, your mother put everything into a blind trust. It was set to automatically activate when you turned twenty-two. You happened to turn twenty-two the year you got married."

"Did Ethan know about this?"

Grandpa set his cup down, his gaze turning sharp.

"How do you think he suddenly ended up lying on the side of the road in front of you?"

A rainy night. A man in a suit, smelling of alcohol.

The guy I dragged home.

"Are you saying—"

"I didn't say anything," Grandpa interrupted, taking another sip of tea. "Figure it out yourself."

I stood outside the study door, feeling the taste of the burnt egg turning sour in my mouth.

That bowl of ramen three years ago. He ate it, told me to marry him, and I said okay.

I had always thought I was the one who rescued him.

Now, it looked like he had been waiting on that street corner for days, just waiting for me to "rescue" him.

My phone rang. Ethan.

I declined the call.

As I walked downstairs, I looked at Serena's text again.

*Chloe, I’ll be waiting at the Sapphire Café on the East Side tonight. Come or don't. But there’s something I think you should see with your own eyes.*

*It’s a love letter Ethan wrote during college.*

*To me.*

I leaned against the banister and read the text twice.

A love letter to her.

From college.

Ethan had never mentioned his college days to me. And I had never asked.

That’s just how I am. I’m not curious, I don't pry. If people don't tell me, I don't ask.

If he made me ramen, I married him. If he told me to sign, I signed.

I stuffed the phone in my pocket.

I walked to the kitchen, opened the fridge, and grabbed an apple.

I took a bite. Sour.

Thomas walked over and looked at me.

"Miss Chloe, do you want me to get the car ready?"

"Where am I going?"

"Aren't you going out?"

I stared at him, and he stared back.

"Thomas, do you know everything that's going on?"

He took a step back.

"I know nothing. I am merely a butler."

Then he added, "But your grandfather did ask me to tell you one thing."

"What?"

"He said—don't stay out too late. You're eating for two now."

I froze with the apple in my mouth.

Grandpa knew too.

Who was actually the slow one in this family?

Turns out, it was just me.

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