Chapter 2

A week later, Daniel came home. He carried a deep navy gift box in his hand, his face wearing a carefully softened expression.

"Elena." He set the box on the coffee table. "A gift. About last time... I was too harsh."

I sat on the couch and didn't look at the box. "Mia is dead."

The expression on Daniel's face froze. His pupils tightened. "...What did you say?"

"Mia is dead. A week ago. She died at New York-Presbyterian Hospital—severe nickel allergy. She suffocated." My voice was calm in a way that sounded terrifying even to me.

"D-dead?" He looked so shocked his body swayed. "When? Why... why didn't anyone tell me?!" The shock on his face looked real. "Why are you only telling me now?!"

At that moment, Lucas charged downstairs. "What's wrong, Dad?"

"Your mom said..."

Daniel's voice trembled. "She said Aunt Mia... died."

Lucas froze, then shook his head violently. "No way! Aunt Chloe said Aunt Mia went to Switzerland for a closed competition! Mom, you must be mistaken!"

I looked at them and kept going. "Her body has already been cremated. She's buried at Green-Wood Cemetery. I'm going to sue Chloe for murder."

I pulled out my phone and opened the chat history, turning the screen toward them. "A week before Mia died, Chloe deliberately asked me again and again what she's allergic to, saying she wanted to 'avoid trouble.' A week later, Mia dies from a nickel allergy. Is that a coincidence?"

Daniel stared at the screen, brow deeply furrowed. "This... Chloe was just being careful... This doesn't prove—"

"Then what about this?" I opened Chloe's Instagram. That post was still glaringly bright. "On the third day after Mia died, she posted this. If she truly believed Mia was just off competing, would she use words like 'survived the storm' as if someone had died?"

Daniel stared at the photo and said nothing.

"So, Daniel." I stepped closer. "Go check. Send the rope and brass buckles you used to tie Mia up that day for testing. See whether there's nickel on them. If Chloe is innocent, the results will clear her."

I laid out the most direct solution.

A flicker of struggle crossed Daniel's face. Testing meant doubting Chloe—meant admitting he might have been manipulated.

"Dad!" Lucas yelled. "Those things were thrown away already, right? How would you even test them? Aunt Chloe would never do something like that! Mom's just saying crazy stuff because she's upset!"

Lucas's words were like a lifeline. Daniel's wavering became obvious.

Right then, Chloe's "weak" voice drifted in. "Daniel... Lucas... what are you arguing about..."

She appeared at the top of the stairs at the perfect moment, wearing my silk robe, her face pale.

Lucas rushed to her immediately. "Aunt Chloe! Mom says Aunt Mia died! How could that be? Didn't you say she went to compete?"

Chloe's face instantly filled with "shock." She covered her mouth, eyes turning red on cue. "D-dead? N-no... that's impossible!" She turned to me, tears rolling down.

"Elena... if something really happened to Mia, why... why didn't you tell us? We're family!" She tossed the question back flawlessly.

Then she looked at Daniel with aching sorrow. "If... if this will make Elena feel even a little better, you... you can investigate." Her voice trembled, but her posture was righteous. "I'm not afraid of being checked. I'm just heartbroken—Elena has been through all this, and we look like we couldn't help at all..."

Retreating to advance—making herself look unbelievably open.

Daniel looked at the "devastated" Chloe, then at me—the "aggressor." The last bit of struggle in his eyes disappeared.

"Enough, Elena." His voice was weary. "I'm very sad about Mia. But those things... were disposed of back then. There's nothing left to test."

He dodged the core issue.

"As for Chloe, her health can't take this kind of stress." His tone hardened into a judgment. "I'm not going to investigate someone who's shown our family so much care, based on your... grief turning into paranoia."

"This ends here."

"Ends here?" My voice was so light it didn't sound like mine. "Daniel, Mia is dead."

"I know!" He snapped, irritation flaring at being forced to hear it again. "I said I'm sad! But life goes on! Can you stop drowning in your own grief and consider other people's feelings for once? Consider this family?!"

"This family?" I repeated the words, bitter irony flooding my mouth. My gaze swept the luxurious living room—swept over Chloe pressed close to Daniel and Lucas standing protectively at her side.

In this "family," Mia's death had become a nuisance that needed to "end here," and my grief had become a mistake.

I stopped looking at him. I stopped looking at any of them. I turned and walked toward the study, calm and empty.

As if to prove his point, my phone rang. "NYPD."

I didn't even pause. I answered and put it on speaker, letting that official voice echo through the dead-silent living room:

"Ma'am, regarding the death of Mia Miller that you reported: after investigation, there is insufficient evidence to open a case. Please accept our condolences."

The call ended.

"Insufficient evidence. Unable to open a case."

I stood there like a weathered statue. The last legal path slammed shut in my face.

Daniel let out a breath of relief and walked over as if to hug me. "Elena, that's enough. It's over. We'll go home and live our lives, alright?"

I stepped away.

That small movement made him awkward—and made Chloe's gaze darken for a fraction of a second behind him.

"Daniel..." Chloe spoke softly, her voice trembling. She came forward and didn't look at me. She only tugged gently at Daniel's sleeve and lifted her tear-streaked face.

"It's all my fault... If I hadn't given that necklace, Mia wouldn't have... Elena wouldn't be in so much pain..." She shook as she cried, barely able to stand. "I... I shouldn't stay here. I'll go... I'll leave, so Elena doesn't have to see me..."

"Don't say that!" Daniel spun to her at once, supporting her with obvious tenderness. "How could this be your fault? You meant well! It was an accident—an accident!"

"N-no... it wasn't an accident..." Chloe shook her head through shining tears, then suddenly turned to me and dropped with a thud—

She actually knelt in front of me.

"Elena, hit me, curse at me, call the cops on me—anything. If it makes you feel even a little better..." She grabbed the hem of my clothes and looked up. Under the lights, her tear-soaked face looked heartbreakingly fragile. "I only beg you—stop torturing yourself, and stop making things hard for Daniel... If you need to hate someone, hate me alone. Please..."

The scene moved Daniel. And it stunned Lucas, who had just come downstairs.

"Chloe! Get up!" Lucas rushed over to pull her up.

Daniel's eyes reddened completely. He looked at Chloe, then at me, his voice hoarse and heavy. "Elena, look at her... She's like this already. What more do you want? Do you really want to drive her to death before you're satisfied?!"

What did I want?

I looked at Chloe kneeling at my feet, putting on a grand confession.

I looked at Daniel, heartbroken, blaming me with his eyes.

I looked at Lucas, his gaze full of displeasure and contempt.

Suddenly it all felt absurd.

So absurd that I laughed.

"Fine." I said.

I bent down and met Chloe's eyes. Deep inside her pupils was a sliver of cold triumph she tried hard to hide.

In a voice only the two of us could hear, I said softly:

"Then keep kneeling."

"Kneel at Mia's grave."

"Kneel until the truth comes out."

Then I straightened up. I didn't look at anyone again. I walked toward the suitcase I'd packed long ago by the door.

"Elena!" Daniel shouted behind me. "Where are you going?! We haven't cleared this up and you're just leaving? You're still the lady of this house!"

The lady of the house?

I turned back and looked at him holding the "weak" Chloe tight. Looked at Lucas guarding her.

"The lady of this house," I said softly, my eyes sweeping over all of them, "was replaced a long time ago."

I pulled the door open.

"Daniel, don't look for me."

"I wish you three—a perfect little family."

The door shut behind me. The latch clicked crisp and final, but it couldn't drown out Chloe's smug whisper inside: "Finally. No one's in the way now."

Then came Daniel's gentle reply: "Don't say that. She'll come back sooner or later." And finally, Lucas's voice: "Chloe, from now on this house is yours!"

I pressed my back to the door, a cold smile hooking my lips. My hand slid into the inside pocket of my coat—where a short strand of rope fiber stained with a dark yellow trace was hidden (I had saved it on purpose when I untied Mia). And the tiny hidden camera in the corner of the studio was silently recording everything inside.

The motion-sensor light in the hallway snapped on. I went down the stairs one step at a time, each step like stepping on their fake warmth.

At the building entrance, rain mist peppered my face—icy to the bone.

I looked up at the second-floor window glowing with warm light. Through a slit in the curtains, Chloe was leaning in Daniel's arms, raising my favorite champagne glass. Lucas sat beside them, twirling the paintbrush Mia had treasured most in her life.

They thought this was my "humiliating exit"—their "moment of victory."

They had no idea the "gift" I left behind was already counting down.