Chapter 3

"But I want to see my sister one last time at the morgue."

I finally agreed to their terms.

I agreed to go to the police station to clear the killer’s name as a family member.

Not because I was giving up.

But because I was completely done with Julian and Christian.

In the morgue, the body was covered with a white sheet. Before I even lifted it, my tears were already pouring down.

"Go out. I want to be alone with Victoria for a moment."

Julian and Christian hesitated, but seeing my bloodshot eyes, they finally stepped out.

I pulled back the sheet.

My sister’s cold body came into view. She, who used to be so warm, was now ice-cold. Her body was covered in deep cuts and bruises. Even her beautiful face had been brutally slashed by Arthur.

He tried to kidnap her for money, and when it failed, he took her life.

With trembling hands, I unbuttoned her blood-stained shirt. On her waist, there was a small tattoo of a string of numbers.

The Vance family was wealthy.

It was inevitable that bad people would target us. Years ago, Victoria had guided my hand to trace this tattoo.

"Chloe, if one day our rivals take me away, or if an accident happens and I can't protect you anymore..."

"Remember these numbers. If anyone bullies you, call this number. Someone will protect our little Chloe!"

Back then, I was too innocent, only knowing how to snuggle in her arms.

"I won't remember it," I had giggled. "You promised to stay with me forever!"

But now, I carved every single digit into my heart.

I finally pushed the door open.

Looking at Julian and Christian, who had been waiting for a long time, I said:

"Let's go."

The news of a famous female billionaire committing suicide had drawn a massive crowd. Even inside the police station, journalists with cameras and microphones packed the hallway.

"Why are there so many reporters?" I asked.

Julian explained, "Mia said since her brother is a hero who tried to save a life, he deserves some good press."

I clenched my fists and forced myself to endure it.

In the conference room, the big screen even displayed the words "Honoring Our Hero" in bold letters. It was an eyesore.

Mia saw me and flashed a smug, victorious smile.

And Arthur, standing before the microphones, was giving a long, dramatic speech about his "heroic deeds."

I frowned.

I thought I could hold it in.

But Arthur’s words became more and more disgusting. He wasn't satisfied with just being a "hero"—he wanted to vent his anger over the failed robbery by painting my sister as a loose woman.

"When I rushed in to save her, the lady's shirt was already unbuttoned!"

"A boyfriend? Who knows. Rich women like her are usually dirty. Probably just a hookup!"

"Hahaha, it’s a pity she died. Otherwise, maybe she would have fallen for me. I’ve always wanted to know what it feels like to sleep with a rich, older woman. Even heroes want to have some fun, right?"

The male reporters in the crowd burst into dirty, greasy laughter, their fingers flying across their keyboards to write filthy articles about my sister.

Arthur got more excited as he spoke. But as he opened his mouth to say more, I couldn't hold back anymore.

I clenched my fists, rushed onto the stage, and slammed him to the ground.

"Shut up, you disgusting killer!"