Chapter 4

That's when urgent footsteps echoed down the hallway.

The club manager came rushing in.

"What—what's going on here?"

Chloe didn't even look up. "Two broke nobodies making a scene. I'm teaching them a lesson."

The floor had been booked under a corporate alias. The manager hadn't recognized us.

A calculating look crossed his face. Cross Chloe, and he risked losing a major client and the trust of a black card member. But if someone actually died here…

"Miss Chloe." He lowered his voice, respectful but urgent. "If someone genuinely dies on these premises, the police will shut this club down."

Chloe's hand stilled.

"We're talking full suspension," he pressed. "Not just the black card access—the entire operation. How would you ever bring your friends here again?"

Something flickered in Chloe's eyes. Then came that expression—the one that meant she found this all very inconvenient.

"Fine." She waved her hand like she was swatting a fly. "Let them out."

I practically crawled out, Eleanor locked in my arms. Her body had gone cold as stone. Not a trace of color left in her face.

"Grandma… Grandma, stay with me…"

I lurched to the nearest sofa and laid her down, yanking a throw blanket over her and rubbing her arms and legs with both hands. But her skin was ice—no matter how hard I worked, the warmth wouldn't come.

I sprinted to the terrace, dug my phone out of my bag, and called Julian.

No answer.

The screen lit up. A new message.

[Julian: I'm busy. Don't call me unless it's important.]

I stared at those words. Something inside me broke.

But I didn't have time to bleed over it. I closed the conversation and dialed emergency services.

"Hello, I need an ambulance—"

A hand shot out and snatched the phone.

"An ambulance?" Chloe strolled to the edge of the terrace, raised her arm, and let go.

The phone arced through the air and disappeared into the infinity pool below. It sank without a sound.

I watched the ripples spread and fade.

The last thread holding me together snapped.

"You—!"

I spun around and grabbed Chloe by the hair. Hard. She screamed and stumbled backward.

"If anything happens to my grandmother—"

My voice came out wrecked, barely more than a rasp. But it was cold. Cold all the way through.

"I will make you and Julian pay for this. Every last bit of it. And I mean that."

There was no anger in my eyes. Just ice. The kind that doesn't melt.

The kind that comes from a woman with nothing left to lose.

Chloe blinked.

Then she started screaming.

"You filthy little—how dare you put your hands on me?!"

She whipped around at her crew. "Hold her down! Pin her! Now!"

Multiple hands hit me at once. Someone wrenched my arms back. Someone else slammed my shoulders. An arm locked around my throat from behind. I was pressed against the side of the sofa, immobilized.

Chloe stood up slowly. She smoothed her hair back into place.

Her eyes landed on the glass coffee table beside us.

She grabbed the back of my head and drove my face down against the edge.

"You wanted to play tough?" Her voice dropped low. "Let's see how tough you really are."

She forced my mouth open. Pressed my teeth against the rim of the table.

Then she swung the glass in her hand.

It connected.

My lip split open.

My teeth cracked against the edge—pain detonated through my jaw and spread in waves across my entire face.

Blood filled my mouth and spilled over my chin, dripping onto the glass surface below in slow, dark drops.

"Trash." She released me and stepped back. "Let's see you talk back to me now."

Chloe let go.

I collapsed.

Pain and suffocation hit at the same time, my vision blurring at the edges.

But I didn't go under. Eleanor was still waiting for me.

I forced myself up off the floor and found the manager standing a few feet away.

"She is Julian's grandmother." I held his gaze. "Eleanor Winston. The head of the Winston family."

I paused. Blood was still running down my chin.

"Please. Call an ambulance. She doesn't have much time."

Chloe made a sharp sound of amusement somewhere behind me. "Still making things up on the way out. Impressive."

She crouched down in front of me and hooked a finger under my jaw, tilting my face up.

"You expect me to believe some random old woman is the head of the Winstons?" Her eyes were full of contempt.

Beside her, the manager had gone still, eyes locked on the platinum medical bracelet on my wrist. The Winston family crest.

The color had drained from his face. Sweat was forming at his temples.

"Miss Chloe…" His voice was unsteady.

He never finished the sentence.

A sound came from the doorway.

His gaze jumped past everyone in the room, locked onto the entrance—and he grabbed onto it like a man going under for the third time.

"Mr. Julian Winston!"