Chapter 4

Perhaps he had forgotten that when he had just married her, he once swore solemnly to me that he wouldn't share any real marital intimacy with Eleanor.

By now, their second child was already three months old.

I lowered my head weakly, my body at its absolute limit.

He knew exactly how badly I had been hurt, yet there wasn't a single word of concern from him. What seemed like gentle advice was, from start to finish, nothing but accusation.

Even Eleanor's deliberate frame-up was reduced to five light words. "Eleanor really did frame you."

How ironic.

Or maybe he simply hadn't realized—he had already, completely, aligned with Eleanor, just like my parents.

"There's nothing left to consider. I can let you have this," I said. "You already have two children. I'm sure you wouldn't want them to grow up without a father."

Jonathan's expression faltered for a moment. Then, almost instantly, anger flared across his face.

He roared at me like a madman.

"Chloe! I've done so much for you, sacrificed so much! And now you want to let me go to another woman?"

Sacrifice? There had been some.

In the first half year after Eleanor was officially recognized by the Sterling family, he truly tried for our future.

But once he married her, he changed into someone who spoke endlessly about our future while constantly hurting me.

"Chloe, stop this. The one I've always loved has always been you. I've persuaded Eleanor—she agreed to take you in. We'll be leaving soon."

Take you in. Those words sank into my heart like a thousand steel needles.

I had already spent over four years living as someone dependent, unwanted, trapped.

They didn't love me. They tormented me. And yet, they refused to let me go.

It was true—I could leave soon. Just not with Jonathan. I would leave on my own.

My phone was still at the Sterling house. I would get it back, one way or another. And before I left, I wanted to say goodbye—to him, and to the past we had shared.

"I can't walk anymore. Will you carry me?"

On that icy, snowy night years ago, Jonathan had never hesitated. He took off his coat, wrapped me in it, and carried me step by step through the snow back to his home.

Four years later, though, in his eyes, I saw hesitation and avoidance.

"The other day, my baby's full-month celebration was covered by quite a few media outlets," he said.

"If I carry you back now, and someone photographs it…"

I closed my eyes, heart deadened.

"Just say whatever you want. I can walk on my own."

Love, or the lack of it—it was really that clear.

I struggled back to the Sterling house and went straight to my room. The first thing I did was call my grandfather.

"Grandpa, can you send someone to pick me up tomorrow? I really want to leave as soon as possible."

He was silent for a moment.

"Chloe… I already sent people to check. We just received confirmation—you are the true bloodline of the Sterling family. Whatever wrongs you've endured, I will be there tomorrow to make them right."

My heart lurched.

So I hadn't been switched at all. So a stranger, with a forged report, could just erase over twenty years of history with my parents. How bitterly ironic.

I don't even know when the call ended.

When I looked up, Eleanor was standing in the doorway.

She stepped forward with fake concern and took my hands.

"Chloe… it's my fault. That day, I accidentally fell, and I was so afraid the baby would get hurt, I thought you pushed me. I sincerely apologize… can you forgive me this time?"

Eleanor would never be this kind, this eager to apologize of her own accord.