Chloe's POV
The Cornwell mansion radiated wealth and splendor; every stone and gilded frame bore old money. As the car rolled up the curved driveway, I inhaled deeply. Money had a scent—warm leather, aged oak, polished silver—and I’d loved it since I was a little girl. To me, it was the fragrance of a life without struggle. Power. Abundance. Beautiful, effortless comfort.
Jackson’s fingers tightened around mine. I smiled, letting the gesture settle like a promise. This was the life I’d been chasing, and now I was here—inside it. Casually, I brushed my fingers over my stomach, the motion so perfectly timed you’d think I’d rehearsed it in a mirror.
“They’re going to love you,” Jackson murmured, eyes soft with that besotted look men get when they think they’re saving you. “You’re carry
