Chloe returned to the mansion before noon, the guilt of leaving her child behind gnawing at her, but the threat from Mrs. Squibb now loomed larger than ever. She had to protect him,not just from the people here, but from secrets that could destroy both their lives.
The minute she stepped through the golden doors, she sensed something had shifted.
The air inside was tense. The maids barely met her gaze. Mr. Thompson wasn't seen anywhere. And Mark… wasn't in his usual office.
Something had happened.
She made her way up the stairs toward her room but stopped when she heard low voices coming from the hallway near the library.
"…she's hiding something," Mark's voice.
Chloe froze, her heart catching in her throat. She crept closer.
"I told you," Mrs. Squibb replied coldly. "She's not Zoe. She's been lying since the day she stepped into this house."
Chloe's breath caught.
Mark said nothing at first. Then: "You're assuming based on instinct. That's not enough."
"She has a child, Mark. A child. I found a picture "And where is it?" he asked sharply.
A pause. "Gone. She must've taken it back."
"Then it's your word against hers."
Chloe stepped back quickly and turned down the hallway before they could see her. Her legs were trembling, but her thoughts moved faster than her feet.
Mark didn't know. Not fully. Not yet.
But he was suspicious.
The walls were closing in.
***
Later that evening, Mark appeared at her bedroom door, knocking once before walking in. He stood tall, but his eyes weren't as guarded as usual.
"We need to talk," he said.
Chloe shut the wardrobe slowly. "About what?"
"I want to know more about… your past."
She turned. "My past?"
"You never told me anything. You barely speak about your childhood. Or your mother. Your family."
She forced a soft laugh. "We had a deal, remember? You needed a wife for 365 days. Not a full biography."
He didn't smile. "The more this marriage looks real, the more the press digs. If they find holes in your story…"
"So this is about appearances?" she asked.
"It's about protecting what we've built," he replied. "And maybe… I'm trying to understand you."
Her heart thudded, but she met his gaze. "There's not much to understand. I grew up with nothing. No real family. No love. Just survival."
Mark's expression flickered. "And the child?"
Chloe's face turned cold. "What child?"
"Mrs. Squibb said she saw a photo. A boy."
"She also said I wasn't Zoe."
Silence stretched.
Chloe stepped forward. "If you believed her, I wouldn't be here right now."
Mark looked at her hard. "No. You're right."
But the way he walked away moments later told her everything.
He didn't believe her.
Not fully.
***
Later that night, Chloe returned to Zoe's room again,no longer just seeking answers, but a plan. She needed a way out before this deal exploded. Or worse, before someone used her child to ruin everything.
She sat at the desk and opened Zoe's diary again. Flipping toward the end, she found a page Zoe had marked with a red ribbon.
"She said if I told anyone, I'd end up like Mother. But I saw it,I saw her coming out of the basement with the bloody dress. She had the knife in her hand. She thought I didn't understand, but I did. I just pretended to forget."
Chloe's breath caught.
It was about Mrs. Squibb. And the murder.
So it wasn't just Chloe's past at risk.
It was Zoe's too.
And somewhere in this house, maybe in that locked basement, was the proof.
Chloe stood quickly. She had to find it.
***
At midnight, she crept down to the servants' corridor that led to the old basement. The door was locked,but the key was still where Zoe had said it would be, hidden inside a hollow brick near the stairs.
Chloe pushed the door open and descended.
The basement smelled of dust and rust. Old furniture, unused paintings, and forgotten boxes lined the walls. She pulled out her phone and turned on the flashlight.
Then she saw it.
A chest. Heavy. Old.
She bent and pried it open.
Inside, wrapped in faded cloth, was a dress.
Red. Stained.
And beneath it, a knife. Dried blood along the edge.
Her stomach turned.
Zoe had been telling the truth. Mrs. Squibb *had* murdered their mother.
Chloe dropped the cloth, her hands shaking, but before she could back away, she heard a loud creak.
She spun.
The basement door was open.
A shadow stood at the top of the stairs.
"Who's there?" Chloe whispered.
The figure stepped forward.
Mark.
But his expression… wasn't confused.
It was cold.
"What are you doing here?" he asked slowly.
Chloe stepped back from the chest, hiding the knife behind her.
"I could ask you the same."
Mark came down a few steps, stopping midway. "You've been sneaking around, reading Zoe's diary, and now this? You've been lying."
She stood straighter. "And so have you."
Mark's jaw clenched. "Are you going to tell me the truth now?"
Chloe met his gaze.
"I'm not Zoe," she said softly.
Mark didn't move.
"I didn't plan to deceive you," she added. "I didn't know until I was already in too deep. You pulled me into that wedding. You thought I was her. I was just trying to survive."
Mark slowly descended the rest of the stairs. "And the child?"
Chloe hesitated.
"I don't know how it happened," she whispered. "That night, years ago. The hotel. You were drunk. I was desperate."
Mark stared at her.
"His name is Liam," she added. "He's yours."
The basement fell silent.
Mark turned his face away for a long moment.
Then finally, he looked back at her, his voice low:
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because I didn't know until the hospital visit… and I was going to tell you, but everything's been falling apart."
Mark exhaled and leaned against the wall, rubbing his face.
"We're both a mess," he muttered.
Chloe nodded.
Then he looked past her,to the chest, the bloodied dress, and the old knife.
"What is that?"
Chloe's voice dropped. "It's what Zoe saw. What your business partner's wife did. What she tried to cover up. She murdered their mother."
Mark stared at the evidence, jaw tightening.
"You're saying Mrs. Squibb killed Zoe's mother?"
"And tried to kill Zoe."
Mark slowly nodded.
"Then it's time we turn the game around."
Chloe looked up.
Mark's expression was unreadable,but for the first time, he looked like an ally.
A dangerous one.
And somewhere above them… Mrs. Squibb was already moving.