Chloe, sobering up, saw the news. Now wiser
after three years in the family, she rushed to
the company. Liam and I were waiting.
She threw the newspaper on the desk. “Ashley!
Care to explain?”
I sipped my coffee and smiled. “Chloe,
remember what I said to you when we first
met?”
Chloe frowned, clearly confused. I stood up and
L
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617
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walked towards her. “I said, ‘You think you deserve to be treated like one of us? I’d be
doing you a favor by giving you scraps. You’re nothing but a homewrecker’s daughter.“”
Chloe gasped, grabbing a vase. Liam caught
her wrist. She stared at him, betrayed. “Liam! You’re taking her side too?”
Liam laughed, releasing her hand and wiping it with a wet wipe. “Don’t call me Liam. You’re not worthy. You know what I thought when I first saw you? The same thing Ashley thought. Your mother used mine, betrayed her, and stole her life. You lived off Mom’s legacy, enjoyed
her money. Why? We begged for Mom’s life,
Ashley and I, kneeling outside the ICU. She was
only eight! Her knees were bruised! And you
waltzed in at eighteen, taking everything she
deserved. How dare you?”
Chloe crumpled to the floor. I laughed coldly.
“You were so stupid, believing we’d be nice to
<
roles, and you handed everything back to us.
Thank you, Chloe.”
The police burst in. “Chloe Parker, you’re under
arrest for the murder of your father.” They
dragged her away, ignoring her struggles. The
hallway was swarming with reporters I’d tipped
off. The flashes blinded her.
Chloe denied everything, but her dealer, seeking
a lighter sentence, confessed. The autopsy
confirmed it. I then leaked the whole story to
–
the press. Everything came out · the
scholarship, the affair, the stolen kidney, Mom’s
death, Dad stealing Grandpa’s money, Chloe’s
arrival, and her privileged life. The internet
—
exploded – betrayal, greed, gold digger,
homewrecker… every nasty word imaginable
was thrown at them. Years of secrets, finally
exposed.
I sat in the family limo, arriving at the Parker
mansion for the first time in three years,
<
without pretense. I wore the Parker heirloom bangle. Mrs. Parker embraced me, a warmth I hadn’t felt since Mom died. “My dear girl,” she murmured. “You’ve been through so much.”
Tears welled in my eyes. I hugged her back.
Mrs. Parker had been Mom’s best friend, a
second mother to me. She hadn’t hesitated to help me avenge Mom.
We went inside. Ethan, holding my favorite
pastries, smiled. “Ashley. Welcome home.”
Mrs. Parker chuckled, nudging me forward. “Go on, silly girl. He’s been waiting for you.”
I blushed and went into Ethan’s arms. He put down the pastries and held me tight.
Later, we visited Chloe in jail. She looked
surprised to see Ethan, then furious when she
saw me. “Ashley! What do you want? Haven’t
you tormented me enough?”
I kissed Ethan’s cheek and stated my purpose.
He blushed but didn’t pull away. Chloe stared.
Every time she tried to be intimate with Ethan,
he’d rebuffed her, claiming he had OCD and couldn’t handle physical contact. She’d believed
him. Now, she wasn’t so sure.
Ethan frowned at her. “I gave Ashley the keys to
that villa,” he said coldly. “It belonged to her
mother. It’s rightfully hers.”
I smiled sweetly. “And thank you for seducing Ethan. I didn’t realize how effective a honey
trap could be. You didn’t know, but Ethan and I
grew up together. You never had a chance. And
Mrs. Parker never liked you. That “heirloom“? A
fake. Just like you. The real one is here.” I held
up my wrist.
Chloe stared, speechless. I waved goodbye.
“Oh, and thanks for taking care of Dad for us.
Enjoy the next few decades making license
-1.
1
CA 661.49-
<
10:47
plates.” I took Ethan’s arm and left. “It’s
freezing!” I complained. “I should’ve worn a
coat.”
424
Ethan sighed and draped his coat around me. “You always get cold, and you never listen when I tell you to dress warmly.”
Chloe slumped in her chair, her face ashen. Her
–
love, her career, her life — all gone. Or rather,
had it ever truly been hers?
Ethan and I got married. As a reward for his
three years undercover, I gave him… me. And a
lifetime of service to the company. We lived in
our city apartment. He’d get home before me,
and I’d find him in the kitchen, white shirt, gray
slacks, pink apron, cooking dinner. He’d look
up, smiling, handsome as a painting. “Welcome
home,” he’d say. “Wash your hands, dinner’s
almost ready.”
(The End)
