Chapter 2
Chloe's POV
The lights in the villa came back on all at once, and I squinted against the sudden brightness.
"Chloe."
I looked up slowly. Vincent's expression was softer than usual — gentler than I'd seen it in a long time.
"Did you not see my messages?" I asked.
He seemed genuinely puzzled. "I'm standing right in front of you. Why would I need to check my phone?"
I didn't answer. I just held his gaze and waited until he finally took out his phone and read what I'd sent hours ago. When he finished, he looked at me the way an adult looks at a child throwing a tantrum — patient, tired, faintly exasperated.
"About the text — Selina already explained everything to me. The child didn't mean any harm, and you didn't end up going to the hospital anyway." He paused, his voice settling into the measured tone he used when he considered a matter closed. "Chloe, as the future Mrs. Sterling, you need to learn to weigh what actually matters. Selina was seriously injured. Her husband entrusted her to me before he died. By any measure — by duty, by decency — she has to come first."
"And where does that leave me?" The words came out before I could stop them. "I'm your fiancée. You left me alone to go be with another woman, and you expect me to be grateful for the explanation?"
"Precisely because you're my fiancée," he said, "you should understand me better than anyone." He crossed the room and drew me into his arms, his hands closing around my shoulders with practiced gentleness. "You're stronger than Selina — you've always been. You took care of your own wound. Once I've made sure she's settled, I'll make it up to you, I promise." He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, unhurried, as though that gesture alone should be enough. "She's always been fragile, and she just lost her husband. She needs me right now in a way that you simply don't. Stop torturing yourself with jealousy. If there were actually something between her and me, you wouldn't even be—"
He didn't finish the sentence. He didn't need to. I already knew what came after: if Selina had been willing to learn the Sterling family's elaborate social protocols and sit through the endless rounds of formal dinners and business functions, I would never have been given the role in the first place.
Vincent reached up and brushed the tears from my face. For a moment, with his touch that careful and his eyes that soft, it was almost possible to believe we were back at the beginning — back when he used to memorize my preferences, when he made sure I was treated with the dignity a fiancée deserved. It took me years to understand that even his best efforts on my behalf never amounted to a tenth of what he gave Selina without thinking.
"If I forgive you right now," I said, "will you give me whatever I ask for?"
"Yes."
I smiled. Even I could hear how bitter it sounded. "Then I want you to come to bed with me. Tonight."
The warmth drained from his face in an instant. "Chloe, the family's business has been overwhelming lately. I'm not in the right headspace for that." He took a small step back, his voice dropping into something quieter, almost reverent. "I want to save that moment for our wedding night. Is that so wrong?"
The smile stayed on my face, but it had gone cold. "Vincent, do you actually think I'm stupid? You've been telling me the same lie for six years. Were you planning to keep it going for another six?"
His patience visibly frayed. "We both need to calm down." He moved toward the study, already done with the conversation. "Go to sleep. We'll deal with the rest tomorrow."
The door clicked shut in front of me. I pulled my knees to my chest on the sofa and sat there in the dark while the tears came down in silence, and six years of memories moved through me like water finding its level. I had wanted what every girl wants — to give myself completely to the person I loved most. And every time, he had gently helped me back into my clothes and gone to take a cold shower instead, telling me he didn't want me to have regrets. Now I understood: he wasn't afraid of my regrets. He was afraid of his own.
"You are the most foolish person alive," I told myself, and the words dissolved into crying I could barely keep quiet. The light under the study door burned all night. By morning, I had made up my mind.
I was awake before sunrise. Out of habit — six years of it — I went to the kitchen and started breakfast. Then I stopped, looked at the second plate in my hand, and put it back in the cabinet.
When Vincent came downstairs and found me already seated at the dining table, he pulled out his chair and sat down the way he always did, unhurried and expecting. He looked at the empty place in front of him and then looked at me.
"Chloe, did you forget something? Where's my breakfast?"
"I won't be making your meals anymore," I said. My voice came out steadier than I expected. "If you want something, ask the housekeeper."
His brow furrowed. "Is this still about me letting the staff go? The timing wasn't ideal, but Selina is in the middle of auditions for principal dancer — this is the most critical stretch of her season. I can't have any disruptions around her right now, and if something went wrong because of carelessness in this house, that would fall on you."
Ever since he'd dismissed the household staff, cleaning the villa and managing his daily life had quietly become my responsibility, as though the transfer of duties required no discussion and no consent. I had let it happen. I didn't intend to let it continue.
"Whether Selina makes principal dancer is her business," I said, standing. "It has nothing to do with me."
"Chloe—"
I was already moving toward the door. "I said what I needed to say yesterday. The engagement is over."
He caught my wrist. When I turned back, his expression had shifted — no longer tired or dismissive, but shuttered and intent. "I heard something at the club last night," he said. "Lucas is coming back to the country. Is that what this is about? You think having him back means you have someone in your corner, so now you feel entitled to push back?"
The name landed somewhere deep and unguarded, and for a moment I wasn't entirely in the room. Lucas — who had always looked out for me, who had once pressed his palm to the top of my head and told me he would always have my back, that he'd never let anyone treat me badly. That had been a long time ago. A different version of both our lives.
I pulled myself back. "Ending this engagement is my own decision," I said, meeting Vincent's eyes. "It has nothing to do with anyone else." I pulled my wrist free, reached into my bag, and set the papers I'd printed the night before on the table between us.
He stared at them without moving. "You want to leave me." It wasn't quite a question. When he finally looked up, the hard edge in his expression had softened into something almost conciliatory. "Chloe, I handled yesterday badly — I know that. But you can't use an engagement as a bargaining chip. This isn't something to joke about."
What came back to me first was the conversation I'd overheard at the club: his voice, unhurried and certain, explaining to someone that I was the perfect shield — that as long as we were engaged, no one could point a finger at Selina, that breaking things off now, while she was still grieving, would invite exactly the kind of media speculation that would damage her reputation and her child's. I had been a function. I had always been a function.
"Vincent," I said, and I was surprised by how quiet my own voice was, "you don't love me. You've never wanted to touch me, never wanted to marry me. You kept me around to protect her. That's all I've ever been to you."
He looked at me with something that might have been pity. "Why do you have to be like every other woman — manufacturing a crisis out of nothing?" Then something shifted behind his eyes, and when he spoke again his voice had gone flat. "Selina was right. You're using this as leverage. You want me to move up the wedding so you can lock in your position. Think it through, Chloe. We'll revisit the rest later."
He walked out. He was certain, I knew, that I wouldn't give up the life I'd built inside the orbit of his family — that comfort and status would do what his charm no longer could, and that I'd be back before long, apologetic and compliant.
What he didn't know was that I had already stopped loving him. The last of my hesitation had gone out like a light. In his mind, I had always been exactly two things: a shield for Selina, and a useful instrument that knew how to behave. I closed my eyes and stood there until his footsteps faded completely, and then I let the silence settle around me like something I had chosen.
