Chapter 3

A few days later, Marcus informed me of a gala.

"It's to celebrate Chloe's appointment," he said, not looking at me. He was straightening his tie in the mirror. "She's being officially named the new Head Auditor."

My old position. The one our family had held for three generations.

"You'll be expected to attend," he added. "To show a united front."

He was treating me like a political prop. A tamed animal to be paraded around to prove his control. The old me would have screamed. The new me just nodded, my face a blank mask.

The night of the gala, the final pieces of the picture clicked into place with brutal clarity.

I came downstairs to find them waiting. Marcus, Alex, and Chloe.

Chloe was standing in the center of the grand foyer, glowing. She was wearing a bespoke Armani suit. It was a sharp, black, single-breasted design. I knew it instantly. There was only one in the world. It had been commissioned for me when I was appointed Head Auditor, an unofficial symbol of the office. I had only worn it once.

She saw me looking. A small, triumphant smile played on her lips.

Marcus noticed. He put a hand on Chloe's shoulder. "It looks better on her, don't you think?" he said to me. "You should just let her have it permanently. You no longer have a need for it."

The words were a slap, delivered with casual cruelty. Alex stood beside them, nodding in agreement, his eyes full of admiration for Chloe. He saw her as the mother figure he should have had, not the traitor who shamed their name.

I said nothing.

"The car is ready," Marcus announced. He gestured towards the main entrance where his private, armored limousine was idling. "Alex, Chloe, let's go."

He then turned to me. "A standard vehicle will take you. It's monitored, of course. Standard procedure for... people in your situation."

They were casting me out. Publicly. He, his son, and his mistress would arrive in the chariot of power. I would follow in the prisoner's transport.

I watched them walk away, Chloe's arm linked through Marcus's, Alex trailing behind them like a loyal dog. The hatred in my chest was a cold, hard stone.