Chapter 3

In the end, I found myself back at that lavish estate.

Vivian and Julian were out in the manicured garden, sipping vintage wine.

Seeing me walk up, Vivian didn't even shift in her lounger. She merely swirled the red liquid in her glass, waiting for me to break.

"I need money. Chef Arthur is dying," I said.

A cruel smile spread across Vivian's face.

"Beg me."

Beside her, Julian pressed his fingers to his lips, putting on a theatrical gasp.

"Oh dear, Vivian, look at him! Doesn't he look just like a stray dog begging for scraps?"

He leaned in close to her ear.

"Why not make him bark for his supper?"

Vivian chuckled softly. She extended one slender leg, the gleaming tip of her designer stiletto resting casually against the grass.

"Get on your knees.

"Lick my shoe clean.

"Do that, and the money is yours."

The image of Arthur's drawn face flashed before me.

He had whispered how desperately he wanted to taste my Winter Plum carpaccio one last time.

My knees gave out, hitting the damp grass with a heavy thud.

What was dignity?

Faced with the life of the man who raised me, my pride was worthless.

Just as my face was inches away from her shoe, my phone suddenly rang.

It was the hospital.

With shaking fingers, I answered. The nurse's frantic voice shattered the quiet.

"Mr. Mercer, it's Chef Arthur."

"He couldn't hold on any longer."

The phone slipped from my grasp, clattering onto the patio stones.

Vivian bent down, picked it up, glanced at the glowing screen, and casually ended the call.

"Annoying racket," she scoffed.

Looking down her nose at me, she added,

"Well? Are you going to keep kneeling or what?

"My patience is running thin."

Slowly, I lifted my head, staring at the face I had loved blindly for years. Then, without a word, I stood up and walked away.

Her furious shriek tore through the garden behind me.

"Stop right there!

"Sean, what the hell is with that attitude?!"

I didn't turn back. From that moment on, she would never have the power to hurt me again.

At Arthur's funeral, I stood numbly in a plain black suit.

The chapel smelled of lilies and candle wax. Someone nearby was trying not to cry.

The sharp clack of high heels approached, stopping right behind my shoulder.

"There's an important charity gala tonight. You have to attend with me," Vivian ordered.

Her voice was devoid of warmth, jarring in the quiet funeral hall.

I didn't budge. I kept my eyes on Arthur's photograph beside the casket.

"Get lost," I rasped.

Her expression darkened, and she took an aggressive step forward.

"Don't flatter yourself, Sean.

"If you refuse, I'll make sure Arthur's restaurant is shut down by tomorrow morning."

My muscles locked up.

Minutes later, her private security guards grabbed my arms, dragging me away from the memorial hall.

The banquet hall was dripping in opulence, crystal chandeliers glittering over the city's high rollers.

Everyone wore practiced, polished smiles.

I was the sole anomaly, dark hollows beneath my eyes, standing in stiff silence.

The host of the night was the legendary, reclusive titan of industry, Mr. Vance.

He sat at the head table, radiating quiet, unassailable authority.

Julian was there too.

He strutted through the crowd and sidled up to Vivian with a watercolor under one arm. It was in a gilt frame without glass.

"Vivian, look. Mr. Vance let me bring out this nineteenth-century watercolor. It's supposed to be priceless!"

He held it up in front of me, grinning.

I completely ignored him.

Suddenly, Julian let out a theatrical shriek.

As if stumbling over his own feet, his body lurched violently sideways.

The Merlot in his glass splashed across the watercolor.

The deep crimson liquid bled instantly into the fibers, leaving an ugly, indelible stain.

Panicking on cue, he spun around toward Vivian and Mr. Vance.

"Oh no! Mr. Vance! I am so, so sorry! I... I didn't mean to!"

In the blink of an eye, Vivian stepped forward, shielding Julian behind her back.

She pointed directly at me, addressing Mr. Vance:

"Mr. Vance, I sincerely apologize. My husband was being reckless and bumped into Julian just now.

"He will take full responsibility and pay for the damage."

With a single breath, she pinned the entire catastrophe on me.

Julian chimed in instantly, playing the victim. "Sean, how could you be so careless?"

Instantly, every pair of eyes in the hall snapped onto me.

"Isn't that Vivian's kept husband? Can he even afford a single square inch of that?"

"What a useless parasite. He does nothing but cause trouble for her."

"Look at him. You'd think someone had just died. What bad luck."

Vivian stood tall, her chin lifted with smug confidence.

She genuinely believed I would behave like the doormat I had always been—swallowing every insult, dropping to my knees, and cleaning up her mess.

What she failed to realize was that the man who loved her had died the moment Arthur took his last breath.