Chapter 4

Back in the luxury villa he had built for me, I looked up.

In the living room, the hallways, the study, and even the corner of the dining room—little red lights were blinking.

He used to tell me that the security cameras were there because he worried about me being home alone. He said it was for my safety.

But standing under those red lights now, I was entirely sober. I wasn't a protected lover.

I was just a caged pet. Sophie was the partner who could actually stand by his side.

At ten o'clock that night, he came home, acting as if nothing had happened, completely ignoring our daytime fight.

He walked over to the sofa and pulled out a velvet box. Inside lay a stunning sapphire necklace.

He stepped behind me, draped the heavy necklace around my neck, and fastened the clasp.

He hugged me from behind, burying his face in my hair.

"Chloe, the outside world is too dirty. The corporate world is full of schemes."

"You can't handle them. Just stay home safely. I’ll take care of you for the rest of your life."

He was always like this—cutting off my escape routes, then wrapping his control in a layer of excuses called protection.

Looking at our reflection in the dark window, I didn't scream, and I didn't question him.

I placed my hands over his around my waist, and nodded obediently. "Okay."

He relaxed instantly and kissed my cheek.

The next morning, the moment he walked out the door, I quickly hid in the camera's blind spot—the corner of the basement walk-in closet.

I opened an old laptop, connected to a burner hotspot, and logged into my backup email.

[Dear Ms. Chloe, congratulations. You have successfully passed the final background check at our global headquarters.]

[Your official appointment letter as the Vice President of the APAC region has been issued. Please confirm your start date.]

In truth, I had already figured out that in this city, no matter how hard I struggled, I could never escape the reach of Harris Group.

The three-month pitch event was just a smokescreen. My real trump card was this position at a rival global firm.

I typed in a few words: [I will depart in three days.]

Just as I closed the laptop, a friend request popped up on my Snapchat: [Hi Chloe, this is Sophie.]

I accepted. She didn't send any direct, petty insults. Instead, her words were dripping with false sympathy.

[Chloe, Harris told me that you've been in a terrible mental state since losing your project. He says you're too dependent on him, and it's putting a lot of pressure on him.]

[He asked me to talk to you when I have time. You really need to learn how to stand on your own two feet.]

Then, she sent two photos.

The first was a snowy mountain peak at 4 AM. Harris and Sophie were sitting side by side, watching the sunrise.

The second was a dimly lit underground bar. Harris was sitting in a dark corner, his eyes fixed on Sophie dancing on stage.

The timestamps on those photos were all during the dates he claimed he was away on "crucial business trips."

Staring at the bar photo, memories from two years ago flooded my mind.

When I was first diagnosed with mild depression, the doctor suggested I spend more time in lively places.

I had begged Harris to take me to an outdoor music festival.

But he had frowned, his face full of disgust as he refused.

"Chloe, I can't stand those dirty, noisy places where the air is thick with other people's sweat."

"Making a request like this only makes me feel like your taste is degenerating."

That night, because I had stood near the entrance of the festival venue for a few minutes, he made me scrub my skin with disinfectant soap three times until my skin was raw and bleeding.

Those were his rules. He used rigidity and suppression to lock me up, yet he broke every single one of his boundaries for Sophie. The double standard was sickening.

Calmly, I saved the photos and opened an encrypted folder titled "Financial Audit."

Inside were the highly suspicious offshore transactions I had signed on his behalf over the past three years as his fiancée.

I packaged all the files and set an auto-send timer.

That evening, Harris arrived home with a team of personal stylists. He loudly announced to the media that he was hosting a grand gala for me in three days.

"Chloe, I want to declare my love for you to the entire world. A love that is absolutely pure."

He squeezed my hand, his face full of deep affection.

I curled my lips into a smile. "Okay. I can't wait."