Chapter3

The third time my phone vibrated on the pillow, I finally struggled out of my stupor.

My head felt like it was splitting, throat painfully dry, body alternating between hot and cold.

I fumbled for my phone. Jordan's name jumped on the screen.

"Hello?" My voice was so hoarse it was barely audible.

"Sienna, are you home?" He sounded rushed, and in the background I could faintly hear a woman sobbing—Chloe.

"I am... not feeling well." I closed my eyes, temples throbbing.

"Listen, Chloe's terrified. Someone tried to break into her apartment, she's completely scared to be alone. I'm bringing her to our place now. Hurry up and make something to eat, she needs something hot to calm her nerves." His speech was rapid, with no inquiry or concern, only commands.

"Jordan, I have a fever." I tried to make the sentence sound clearer.

"Take some medicine and you'll be fine. We'll be there in half an hour. Make something she likes, remember?" After speaking, he hung up directly.

The dial tone buzzed in my ear, mixing with my headache.

I stared at the ceiling, took a deep breath, then propped up my burning body and sat up.

In Jordan's world, only Chloe's "fright" was real.

I swallowed two fever reducers and splashed cold water on my face.

I wouldn't go shopping for them. I was going to see a doctor, keep myself alive, live well.

Half an hour later, I returned to our apartment door.

A wave of unfamiliar, sickly-sweet floral scent hit me. I froze.

In the living room, my collection of neutral-toned linen throw pillows was gone, replaced by a pile of fluffy pink and white cushions.

On my huge, clean-lined dark gray rug, someone had laid a small light pink carpet printed with exaggerated bow patterns.

Even the curtains—my specially chosen deep blue velvet drapes—had been replaced with lace-trimmed light beige sheers.

It looked like a sample room from some teen magazine, and the taste was absolutely terrible.

My temples started throbbing again, but this time not from fever.

"Oh, Sienna, you're back!" Chloe's voice came from the direction of the master bedroom. She was wearing what clearly didn't belong to her—belonged to me—a silk robe, shuffling in my slippers, face bearing an innocent smile. "Hope you don't mind I did a little decorating. It felt a bit... too cold here before. Jordan said I could do whatever I liked, since I'll be staying here for a while."

Speaking, she very naturally walked to the sofa, picked up a pink unicorn pillow, and curled into the spot I usually sat.

Jordan followed her out, holding a glass of water.

"Why are you standing in the doorway? Did you buy the groceries?" He glanced at my empty hands, frowning. "Didn't I tell you to make dinner?"

My gaze moved from that glaring pink, to Chloe in my robe, then to Jordan's matter-of-fact face.

That sickly-sweet floral scent made me nauseous.

"What does this mean, Jordan?" I asked, my voice calm even to myself surprisingly so.

"What do you mean what? Chloe needs a safe place to stay until she's emotionally stable and finds a new apartment." He set down the water glass, walked to Chloe's side, and very naturally ruffled her hair. "This is her home, she can decorate however she wants. Do you have a problem with that?"

Home. He said this was her home.

I nodded, said nothing more, and walked straight toward the bedroom.

Our master bedroom. The door was ajar. I pushed it open.

An even bigger visual assault.

The bedding had been changed to fussy princess-style, the vanity was covered with makeup and jewelry boxes I didn't recognize, the closet door hung open, stuffed full of brightly colored clothes, while my minimalist clothing had been shoved into a corner, piled messily.

A suitcase monogrammed with the letter "C" lay wide open in the center of the room's carpet.

"I'm just putting my things here temporarily, you don't mind, do you, Sienna?" Chloe had somehow followed to the doorway, leaning against the doorframe, her tone sickeningly sweet. "Jordan said this room gets the best light, told me to sleep here. He said you could sleep in the guest room for now."

I turned around to look at Jordan standing behind Chloe. His face showed not a trace of apology, only a "this is how things should be" composure.

"Fine." I said, then walked to the closet and began removing my clothes that had been shoved into the corner.

"What are you doing?" Jordan asked.

"Organizing." I didn't look back, folding clothes one by one and placing them on the bed. "It's too crowded here. Some things I don't need anymore, I'll sort them out to donate. And since Chloe's here, I'll just move to the guest room."

"Oh right, you really should do some clearing out, you have too much stuff." He immediately accepted this explanation, his tone even becoming lighter. "Actually this is better. After we get married, we'll definitely need to get a bigger place. We can keep a room specifically for Chloe then, or just choose one with a separate suite, that way everyone's comfortable."

My hands paused for half a second while folding clothes. Married. A bigger house. Keep a room for Chloe?

"Of course." I heard myself respond in a very steady, even slightly compliant voice. "You're right, that arrangement makes more sense."

He was satisfied, turning to put his arm around Chloe's shoulder and walking out. "Come on, let her organize. What do you want to eat? We'll order takeout."

Their voices gradually faded. I continued my task, extracting my belongings piece by piece from this already-invaded bedroom.

Clothes, books, some important documents—I placed them neatly in the large suitcase I'd brought.

After finishing, I closed the suitcase and sat on the bed's edge.

The guest room had no trace of Chloe, still retained its original tranquility for now.

Then I picked up my phone and dialed the number in my contacts labeled "Father."

"Sienna." Father's voice was always that steady, emotionless.

"Dad." I swallowed the dryness in my throat, voice low but very clear. "Regarding Jordan Sterling's company, those investments made through the trust... it's time to start pulling out. Slowly, in batches, don't make too big a scene. But I want to ensure that within a month, the cash flow starts getting tight."

Two or three seconds of silence on the other end.

"You've decided?" Father asked, not asking why.

"I've decided." I looked at the closed bedroom door, faintly hearing Chloe's simpering laughter and Jordan's agreement from outside. "Also, help me investigate someone, Chloe Bennett. I want to know everything about her background, the more detailed the better."

"Understood." Father said, "The financial operations will begin tomorrow. I'll get you the information as soon as possible."

"Thank you, Dad."

Hanging up, I darkened the phone screen. The room was very quiet, only the sound of my own breathing.

The dizziness from fever remained, but my mind was unusually clear, like a piece of steel soaked in ice water.

Jordan, that "big house" you're dreaming of with a room for Chloe—you'll never get to wait for it.

Because your kingdom starts crumbling silently tomorrow.