Chapter 4

The new apartment's heating was cranked up high.

I sat on the rug, sipping mulled wine, watching snowflakes drift past the window.

New York's streets were already soaked in Christmas cheer—storefronts twinkling with lights, shoppers hurrying by with bags, content smiles on their faces.

For the first time in three years, I actually had time to feel the holiday spirit.

Not stuck in that empty executive apartment, buried under stacks of case files.

I thought back to the first Christmas.

That year, my father announced he was taking the family to Florida for the holidays. But to me, he said:

"Chloe, you're just starting out in Legal. Year-end is crunch time. You need to stay and work—it'll look great for your promotion next year."

My mother backed him up:

"Exactly. You're the pride of this family now—can't slack off just because of a holiday. Emma's been so stressed with exams. We need to take her to the beach to unwind."

Back then, I actually bought their bullshit.

I honestly thought if I worked my ass off and made good money, I'd earn their respect.

That Christmas Eve, I sat alone at the dinner table, eating microwaved frozen pasta.

Watching the family group chat blow up with photos—them in swimsuits on a Miami beach, drinking coconut water, laughing like they didn't have a care in the world.

I sat in that empty living room all night. Cried silently.

Felt like an abandoned orphan. Like no matter how hard I tried, I'd never fit into that warm little circle they called "family."

Second year, they decided on Hawaii.

Same excuses. Same smug certainty.

This time, I wasn't going to cave.

"Dad, I already applied for my vacation days this year. I can come with you."

At dinner, I gathered my courage and said it out loud.

My father's face went cold. He slammed his knife and fork down.

"Chloe, you're being so immature. Flights and hotels for Hawaii were booked weeks ago. Adding a last-minute person? The cost is ridiculous. Just because you're making a little money now doesn't mean you can throw it around."

My mother looked disappointed too.

"Chloe, Emma's been looking forward to this trip for a whole month. Why do you have to ruin it? Can't you let your sister have this?"

Emma lowered her head, biting her lip, tears welling up.

My father shot me a cold look and rapped his knuckles on the table.

"Since we can't agree, let's do it the usual way. Vote. All in favor of Chloe staying to work while the three of us go to Hawaii—raise your hands."

He raised his own hand without hesitation.

My mother followed.

Emma wiped her eyes and timidly raised hers too.

Three to one. No contest.

Those three hands in the air felt like a slap across my face.

"Majority rules."

My father announced it like a verdict.

"Chloe, you stay."

That night, he gave Emma a little lecture.

"You see how selfish Chloe acted today? Emma, remember—family interests always come before personal whims."

And Jack? Where was he through all of this?

Back then, Jack was still just my boyfriend.

I cried to him about how unfair it was. He held me gently, said he understood.

"Chloe, don't be sad. They're going? Fine. I'll stay here with you for Christmas."

And he did.

That second Christmas, he had turkey with me in the apartment.

I thought I'd finally found someone to lean on.

Thought that at least one person in this world would choose me without hesitation.

Turns out, I overestimated love. And underestimated my father's grip.

This year, when my father suggested Jack go as the "German translator," Jack didn't even glance at me before nodding yes.

"Mr. Carter's right—they need a translator. Chloe, I'm doing this so they can enjoy their trip without stress. You should understand where he's coming from."

His eyes darted away, but his tone was full of confidence.

That moment, it hit me. Over the past year, Jack had been "trained" without even realizing it.

He'd started echoing my father's opinions. Lecturing me in my mother's voice to "be reasonable." Even coddling Emma when she threw tantrums, like some doting big brother.

He'd become one of them.

Four to one.

And I was the outsider again.

My phone rang, pulling me back. Sophia.

"Chloe, I found something interesting."

Her voice had that mysterious edge. And a hint of anger.

"What is it?"

"About your wonderful fiancé, Jack."

She paused, choosing her words carefully.

"You asked me to check his recent bank statements and credit card bills... I found multiple large purchases over the past few months. High-end jewelry. Designer bags. And the dates—conveniently timed when you two weren't together."

I froze. Then I thought about those photos Jack sent.

Emma pressed against him, way too close. Past the line of what a "future brother-in-law" should be.

"Can you tell who they were for?"

"Not yet."

Sophia's voice dropped.

"But I did find a regular monthly transfer to an anonymous account. Chloe... brace yourself."

"I'm fine, Sophia. Keep digging. Whatever you find—I can handle it."

I hung up and stared at the snow outside.

Originally, I just wanted to quit and take back the apartment. Teach the Carters a hard lesson.

But now? This storm might be bigger than I expected.

My screen lit up again. A text from my mother.

"Chloe, our flight lands at noon tomorrow. Richard said he hopes to find a nice home-cooked lunch waiting when we get back to the apartment. Don't disappoint us."

I laughed out loud at the message.

Noon landing.

Meaning by 2 PM at the latest, they'd be dragging their suitcases up to a door that would never open.

Lunch? In their dreams.

Hope you like the "special" gift I've prepared for you.