Chloe's POV
Morning light spilled through the long glass windows of the Cather mansion, slicing across the marble floors like pale gold ribbons.
The house was quiet, too quiet. Only the sound of the clock ticking against the wall reminded me that time was still moving, even when everything else felt broken.
Jason hadn’t spoken much since the dinner. I could still picture him from the night before, wild-eyed, trembling, his voice hoarse from shouting as he hurled a vase across the room.
The crash still echoed in my head. He was angry, humiliated, stripped bare before the public. And every motherly instinct in me ached to fix it, to erase the pain in his eyes. But pain was a privilege. It was weakness. And weakness, in our world, meant blood in the water.
I stood by the tall mirror in
