Chapter 2

Chloe's POV

I let out a low, bitter laugh as I looked at Vincent. "You don't deserve to know."

I threw the words at him, then turned and stumbled down the mountain.

Rain came out of nowhere, pouring so hard it blurred the world. By the time I made it back to the dead-silent mansion, I was soaked to the skin.

Once, this had been the house I dreamed of. Vincent and I had grown up together. I had loved him through my entire youth.

On our wedding night, he had wrapped his fingers around my throat and smiled coldly, saying I'd bribed his parents with my inheritance, schemed my way into the family.

"Chloe, if you're so eager to live like a widow, I'll make it happen." That had been the first thing he ever said to me as my husband.

Days of keeping vigil beside Anna's body, on top of the drenching rain, finally caught up with me. My vision started to blur.

Fever burned up from inside my bones. I leaned against the wall, pushing away a maid who tried to help me.

"Get out. Don't touch me."

Clinging to consciousness, I forced myself back to the bedroom, clutching the cold urn tight against my chest, curling up in the dark corner of the bed.

My body kept heating up, the fever climbing. The room doubled and spun in front of my eyes.

Bang.

The door flew open with a savage kick, and Vincent walked in, wrapped in that nauseating cloud of roses.

Camila followed behind him.

"Chloe, who are you putting on that funeral face for?"

He stood by the bed, looking down at me, his voice dripping with disgust.

"You ruined Anna's birthday, and now you're ruining the atmosphere at home too?"

My mind was fogged from the fever, my lips dry and cracked. I couldn't get a word out.

"Here. This is the present for Anna." He tossed a delicate gift box to the foot of the bed like he was throwing scraps to a beggar. "Camila picked it out herself. Don't say I don't care about my daughter."

"Vincent, don't say that. Maybe Chloe's just tired."

Camila stepped closer, her face arranged into a mask of concern.

She bent down as if to help me sit up, but where Vincent couldn't see, her fingers dug into the soft flesh on the inside of my arm.

Her nails were sharply filed. She twisted hard. Pain shot through me like an electric shock. My whole body jerked, tears springing to my eyes.

"You see? Chloe's so moved she's crying."

She pressed her lips to my ear, her voice too soft for anyone else to hear. "Clinging to a box of ashes. How pathetic."

I shook with pain, tried to shove her away, but the fever had drained every ounce of strength from me.

"Where's Anna? Tell her to come down." Vincent scanned the room with open irritation. "I've been working all day; I don't have time for her tantrums."

"She's not here."

I forced the words out between my teeth, each one tasting like blood.

"Not here? Where did you hide her?"

Vincent's brow furrowed. "Chloe, you're actually using our kid as a bargaining chip just to fight for attention?"

"I'm warning you for the last time—stop being so dramatic. Learn something from Camila. She's pregnant and still finds it in her to apologize to you."

He turned and headed for the stairs, clearly planning to search the study and the nursery himself.

The room was suddenly just me and Camila.

She glanced at the gift box by the foot of the bed, the corners of her lips curling into a cruel smile.

"Well, since Anna's not here, I'll open it for her."

She tore off the wrapping paper. The instant she lifted the lid, a thick, cloying scent spread through the air.

Some kind of synthetic fragrance—so sweet it made me want to gag.

My mind detonated with a loud buzz.

That smell was identical to the lingering scent in Anna's hospital room the day she died.

Ricin poisoning usually came with that kind of hidden attractant.

"It was you…" My pupils constricted as I stared at Camila. "It was you who poisoned Anna, wasn't it?!"

Camila didn't deny it. She just held up the silk scarf that had been soaked in the scent and smiled like a demon.

"Chloe, what are you talking about? I have no idea what you mean."

"Go to hell."

I had no idea where the strength came from. I lunged at her, my hands locking around her throat.

I wanted to kill her. I wanted to rip that fake, gentle mask off her face and tear it to shreds.

"Let go! You lunatic!"

Camila shrieked, but she didn't fight back with any real force. Instead, she kept stumbling backward, making herself look as helpless as possible.

"Stop!"

Vincent's voice exploded from the top of the stairs.