Chapter 2

Through the closed door, the maids' voices drifted in from the hallway.

"Mr. Harlow really does spoil little Pearl. Tomorrow's adoption banquet is even bigger than the wedding was."

"Young Master Daniel flew to Paris overnight just to commission her a custom diamond gown."

I sat with my back against the cold wall, my phone screen casting pale light across my face.

In prison, I'd run a fever of a hundred and three. I'd dragged myself on a broken leg and beat on the iron door all through the night.

It turned out that same night, the TV had been looping news coverage of Jerome spending a fortune on Vanessa.

The voices outside kept going.

"Isn't tomorrow the anniversary of the young miss's death? Why would Mr. Harlow pick that day?"

"Watch your mouth. Don't say 'young miss.'"

"Tomorrow's banquet is being broadcast live across the whole city. From now on, there's only one daughter in this family."

My thumbnail split my palm open. Blood welled up.

On Lily's memorial day, Jerome was going to throw a celebration. Standing on the bones of his dead child, for his mistress's daughter.

Not long after, the bedroom door opened.

Jerome set a cup of warm milk gently on the nightstand.

"Claire, I've contacted the top orthopedic specialist in Germany."

"Your leg can still be repaired. I'll arrange the surgery for next week."

He reached toward my hair.

I knocked his hand away.

The softness left his face. His voice went hard.

"I do everything for you. I find you the best doctors."

"Claire. How long are you going to keep this up?"

I looked at him coldly.

"You do everything for me? You had my leg broken."

"You do everything for me? You covered for the woman who killed our daughter."

Jerome sighed, his tone heavy with impatience.

"You spoiled Lily. She was barely five and already screaming insults at grown women."

"Vanessa barely touched her. Who could have known she'd fall into the lake?"

"Vanessa has been torturing herself with guilt ever since. She's suffered enough."

"You can't put all of this on her."

Something tore in my chest, so sharp I could barely breathe.

To defend a murderer, he was smearing a five-year-old child.

I was eighteen when I collapsed to the ground, covered in blood.

My father's body was at my feet.

My mother had just slit her wrists beside him.

Jerome burst in and held my trembling body tight.

"Don't be afraid, Claire. I'll spend my life protecting you."

Every word he'd ever said to me turned to ash.

"Jerome. I want a divorce. I'll let you go."

"All I'm asking for is Lily's ashes."

Jerome went quiet. His expression grew darker and darker. Then he gave a cold laugh.

"Divorce? Not a chance."

"Tomorrow's banquet. You'll attend as my wife."

"Refuse, and you will never find out where Lily's real ashes are."

He let go and slammed the door behind him.

I stumbled out of the room and stopped at a familiar door.

I pushed it open.

Designer gowns, a full wall of Hermès bags.

Lily's desk, her toys, her bed. All gone.

A huge portrait of Vanessa and Pearl hung on the wall.

Limited-edition jewelry Jerome had given her was arranged on the vanity.

This room had become their private dressing suite.

"Like what you see?"

Vanessa leaned in the doorway in a silk robe.

"When that little brat was dying, she kept calling for you."

"I held her under, again and again."

"She fought for about five minutes before she went still. Her eyes were wide open at the end."

My blood rushed straight to my head.

I raised my hand and hit her with everything I had.

Vanessa didn't move. She just smiled.

A wave of dizziness hit me.

Everything went black and I went down hard.