Chapter 2

Amber's POV

> Three Years Ago—The Sinclairs' Mansion <<

My mother and I watched nervously as my stepfather spoke urgently on the phone. Although we could barely hear him since he was standing almost at the door, from his expressions and gestures, we could tell that something was wrong—his stance was as nervous as ours.

I squeezed my mother's hand comfortingly. "Everything is going to be fine," I encouraged her.

"She's been gone for two days," Mom sniffed. "No calls from her yet, not even a text. And we don't even have a clue about her whereabouts. What if something bad has happened to her?"

"Nothing is going to happen to her," I told her. I wasn't confident in my words, but we had to stay hopeful.

"You don't understand. We..." Her words were cut off when she saw my stepfather approaching. His brows were furrowed, deep frown lines appeared on his face, and his once-clear eyes were now red... as if he was trying to stay strong.

My mother got up quickly. She rushed to her husband and grabbed his right arm. "Who was that?" she asked in a shaky voice.

There was a pause. My stepfather stared at my mother for a moment, then took a deep breath. "It's a call from the hospital."

A call from the hospital? That can't be good. My eyes settled on my mother, worried about how she was going to take whatever news my stepfather was about to break to her.

"It's Chloe." He shut his eyes as he said his next words. "She's been involved in an accident!" he dropped the bombshell.

My mother let go of him and fell to the ground. I rushed forward immediately to help her.

"Mom..."

"Crying won't solve anything," my stepfather interrupted me. "Pick yourself up. Let's go to the hospital." He turned away from us, rushed to the table, grabbed his car keys, and hurried out.

My mouth parted as I watched my mother. Why would she allow her husband to talk to her in such a manner? He could have at least comforted her, encouraged her, and told her that it might not be a fatal accident. I sighed deeply and decided this was not the time to argue.

I helped my mother up. "Let's go," I told her.

She couldn't speak; she simply nodded, and we headed out.

> St. Mark's Hospital <<

The drive from our house to the hospital was only twenty-five minutes, but it felt like five hours because my mother was fidgeting in her seat.

As soon as the driver found a space in the parking lot, my mother pushed her door open and jumped out of the car. Her eyes searched around frantically. I alighted quickly, rushed to her side, and held her right arm reassuringly.

"Calm down, Mom. Chloe is going to be fine." She took a deep breath and nodded.

"Let's go inside," my stepfather said as soon as he came near us.

                                               >>>>

"Mr. and Mrs. Sinclair?" a nurse asked immediately after we stepped foot into the hospital.

That's weird. In a hospital as big as this and filled with so many people, how did she know we're Chloe's family? I didn't ask any questions, though.

"Yes," my mother answered urgently.

"Come with me," she said.

We followed her. After walking for a moment and taking a few turns, we finally made it to a ward, but it was in a slightly isolated area. Only a few wards and patients were there—maybe this was a private ward. The nurse pushed the door open and entered while we quickly followed.

The moment my mother saw Chloe, she cried, "Oh, my baby!" then rushed to hug her.

My mouth hung open as confusion washed over my face. Wasn't she involved in an accident? Why was she looking healthier than me?

Chloe was peeling an orange when we entered, so she didn't notice us at first. Although her left leg was in a cast, she folded her legs while casually peeling the orange. It wasn't until my mother cried, "Oh, my baby!" that she quickly dropped the orange, lifted her casted leg up, and began crying.

"Mom, Dad..."

I looked around to see if anyone noticed what just happened, but nobody did. My mother and stepfather simply seemed worried about her injured leg—fake injured leg, to be precise.

"What happened? Why were you in an accident?" my mother asked worriedly.

Chloe pulled away from the hug. "I was trying to get away," she sniffed.

"Trying to get away from what?" my stepfather asked for the first time since we entered the ward.

"Vincent," she said.

I frowned. Why would she be trying to get away from Vincent? Aren't they supposed to be lovers? Something's not adding up here.

My mother gave her a confused look. "What do you mean you were trying to get away from Vincent?"

Chloe gave us a scared and conflicted look. "I can't marry him."

"Why?" I asked before I could stop myself. My stepfather gave me a side-eye, but I wasn't fazed because I wanted to know why she wouldn't want to marry the man she claimed to be in love with since childhood.

I raised my brows, waiting for her answer.

"There's something about Vincent that I haven't told anyone," she paused briefly, gulped, and continued. "He abuses me."

"What?!" my mother exclaimed.

Chloe nodded and continued. "He pretends to love me and showers me with so much love, but he abuses and threatens me behind closed doors." To prove her point, she raised her arms, and we saw multiple bruises that had turned purple. "I've been hiding these from you all. I thought I could handle it, but I can't anymore."

My mother reached for her hands with teary eyes. I almost rolled my eyes at how easily Chloe was fooling our mother, because I knew for a fact that my stepfather, who, by the way, is Chloe's father, was skeptical about her story.

"Oh my goodness. Why didn't you tell us sooner?" my mother lamented, then turned to my stepfather. "The wedding..."

"The wedding is in four days, and we can't call it off!" he interrupted her. "You know we can't call off the wedding."

"But I can't let my daughter get married to an abuser," my mother argued, her voice slightly raised.

"Then we'll find a substitute."

"From where?" my mother asked.

As if they had planned it beforehand, my stepfather and Chloe turned toward me expectantly.