Chapter 2

I still insisted on going home.

The moment the elevator doors opened, an eye-catching "Just Married" sign plastered across the door came into view.

Victor paused mid-step and moved to block me.

"Mrs. Haight comes by every now and then. It's all for her to see.

"Let's just go back to the hotel, okay?"

I ignored him and pressed my finger on the fingerprint lock.

[Access denied.]

I tried again, and it failed again.

This was the house my parents had left me, yet I could no longer get in.

"We changed the lock a while back. I just haven't gotten around to adding your fingerprint yet."

Victor avoided my gaze and pressed his finger on the lock.

The door unlocked.

Two pairs of couple slippers sat in the entryway.

On the shoe cabinet was a Polaroid photo of Cynthia in pajamas, hugging Victor from behind while he cooked.

There was a note below it.

[Day one hundred of our marriage.]

Victor's face went pale, and he reached out to cover it.

But I had already seen the wedding photo on the living room wall.

My heart started to pound faster. I pushed him aside and rushed to the second bedroom.

Sure enough, my parents' memorial portrait was gone from the wall.

In its place was a wedding photo of Victor and Cynthia.

Beneath the frame, two holes my father had nailed into the wall were still visible.

My mind went completely blank.

"Where are my parents' photos?"

He avoided my gaze.

"I'm asking you. Where are my parents' photos?"

"It didn't feel right having a memorial photo in the newlywed bedroom. So, I put it away for now."

I burst into the storage room and dug out the box at the very back.

My parents' belongings had been shoved inside carelessly.

There was a crack on my mother's side of the photo.

I touched it, and the glass cut my fingertip.

Victor panicked and grabbed my hand.

"Don't touch it. I'll take care of it for you."

I flung his hand away hard.

"Get off me!"

Suddenly the door lock clicked, and Cynthia walked in like she owned the place.

She stopped in her tracks when she noticed the shattered glass on the floor.

Victor was rummaging through every cabinet but could not find the first-aid kit.

He had no choice but to get up and say to Cynthia, "Cindy, stay with her. I'm going to run downstairs and grab some stuff from the pharmacy."

When the door closed and his footsteps faded into the distance, she crouched down and slowly brushed the broken glass off the memorial photo.

She then said softly, "Clem, you shouldn't have come back."

I caught my breath and looked at her in disbelief.

"You don't actually think Victor married me just because my mom got sick, do you?

"Sure, he signed the papers to keep my mom happy. But what about him sneaking into my bed every night, wanting to try every position? Was that for her too?"

My ears started ringing. I gripped the photo frame, and blood dripped through my fingers.

"Why? I've always treated you like family."

"Then you should've stayed even further away from my husband."

She looked at me and continued, "This is mine and Victor's house. What are you even doing here?"

"This is the house my parents left me!"

"My family took you in for twenty years. Don't you think you owe us?"

My body stiffened.

Back then, the Haight family became my legal guardians and took control of the savings and compensation money my parents had left behind.

After I turned eighteen, I never stopped sending money to them.

Seeing that I stayed quiet, she followed my gaze to the memorial photo and laughed.

"The first time Victor touched me romantically was in your parents' bed."

She picked up a shard of broken glass and slowly traced it down the crack across my mother's face.

"They kept staring at us the whole time. It was a total mood killer. So I had Victor take the picture down."

That was the last straw.

I snapped and slapped her with all my strength, sending her sprawling to the floor.

Just then, Victor burst through the door, dropped the bandage, and helped her up.

"Clementine, have you lost your mind?"

I could not even be bothered to explain. It felt pointless.

"Move."

I walked around him and packed my parents' memorial photos and belongings into a suitcase.

He grabbed the handle and held it in place.

"Clem, cut it out. Apologize to her."

My breath was trembling as I pried his fingers off.

"Victor, we're done."

"Before the wedding, get her and yourself out of my house.

"This house belongs to the Revelles."