Chapter 13

The train of the gown whispered over marble as Chloe walked toward the reception lounge. Guests hadn’t arrived yet—she could rest a moment.

Shannon Lynn’s eyes glittered with tears as she clung to Landon Moore. “Landon, she hit me.”

Landon thought of the sharp edge in his bride and pinched the bridge of his nose. He’d spoiled Shannon. Only the old Chloe—pliant and placating—could tolerate her. But now Chloe had changed. Peace would be rare from now on.

“Shannon, it’s our wedding day. Don’t make a scene,” he warned. “Leave her alone. She’s Mrs. Moore now.”

Shannon stared at him, stunned. “You don’t care about me anymore? Did you fall in love with her?”

The headache pounded. He didn’t deny it quickly. Shannon’s heart cracked; fury drove her after Chloe.

“You—stop right there!” she yelled from the stairhead.

Chloe turned and smiled—cool, amused.

Shannon thrust out a hand to shove her down the stairs. Chloe had been waiting. She caught Shannon’s wrist and flung her down the steps.

“Ah!” Shannon tumbled, thudding against the risers. She curled on herself, gasping. Her head smacked the banister; blood laced down her pale brow—startling red on white.

“Bitch—y-you pushed me?!” She couldn’t believe it. The woman who never dared raise her voice had grown a spine overnight.

“You can push me and I can’t push you?” Chloe asked, descending in crystal heels, eyes narrowed in a princess’s disdain.

For the first time, Shannon was afraid. “W-what do you want?” She tried to rise, failed, fell again.

“You’re the classic green tea schemer—not even very good at it. I tolerated you before. I won’t anymore.” She ground her stiletto down on Shannon’s hand.

“Ah! It hurts! Landon—help! She’s gone crazy!” Shannon sobbed, snot and tears smearing her face. “You’ll pay—he won’t let you go!”

Chloe laughed softly, then cracked her palm across Shannon’s cheek. Blood smeared her own fingers. With a disdainful look, she wiped her hand clean—on Shannon’s dress.

Landon stood at the landing, face like iron. Shannon saw him and wailed louder. “She’s insane—get revenge for me!”

His glance was weary. “Shannon. I told you not to bother her. Take Miss Lynn to the hospital.”

Without Shannon’s chaos, the wedding proceeded—grand, noisy. Chloe’s face held little joy.

Landon looked at his wife in front of him, and a sense of strangeness welled up within him.

That night was their wedding night. In the past, Landon hadn’t been often with his wife, but three years had taught him her body—what she liked, where she was sensitive. Chloe in his arms now was nothing like before. The old Chloe had been passive but gentle; inexperience wrapped in softness that pulled a man under. Tonight’s bride burned—eager as wildfire, practiced in a way that set his skin alight and his thoughts on edge. His body rejoiced; his mind rebelled. How had she changed so much, so fast?

At the hospital, Shannon spent a night and was largely fine—physically. Her pride suffered worse. She seethed. The old Chloe had been dough in her hands—pinched into any shape, enduring every trap and slander. Now the woman fought back. Shannon’s nerves jangled. Women sensed things; either Chloe was insane or someone was impersonating her.

She must find the truth.

Back at the Moore estate she heard Chloe had moved into the master suite with Landon. Rage went acid-green. Worse—they were still asleep when she returned.

She prowled the master bedroom, face twisted. “Just wait… I won’t let you go.” She slipped into Chloe’s room instead and rifled the vanity. In the lowest drawer a journal lay hidden—crammed with Landon’s preferences: birthday, sign, habits, taboos. Written recently.

Suspicion curdled. They’d lived together for three years and she needed this? Like that day she’d tried to set Chloe up with a sugared coffee—but Chloe poured it out.

The door opened. Chloe walked in. They stared at each other.

Without a word, Chloe strode over and slapped Shannon hard. “Who let you in? Who said you could read my journal?”

Shannon shot to her feet, shaking. “You—you dare—”

“You break into my room and paw through my things. Why shouldn’t I slap you?”

Landon arrived at the commotion, annoyance roughening his voice. “What’s wrong?”

Arms crossed; Chloe didn’t flinch. “She read my journal. A lady creeping like a sewer rat—disgraceful.” She turned on her heel and left for the master suite.

Shannon wiped tears and looked at Landon. “She’s out of control—aren’t you going to do something?”

“I told you—stop bothering her.”

Shannon was crying in a jerky manner. "Are you not caring about me at all anymore?"

“If you’re unhappy here, go abroad for a while,” he said flatly.

Shannon stared at him with wide eyes.

“You’re sending me away?”

“No, I won’t.”

She fled in sobs. Landon glanced down and noticed the journal—neat, delicate handwriting. As he read, his eyes widened. A lemony ache filled his chest—sour and soft—and something warm, long missing. She loved him that much? Enough to record every detail? But why had she written it? He set the journal down and called his assistant. “Pull everything on the Hayes family and Chloe—every detail. Fast.”