Chapter 2

Late at night, in the Sterling family's Heirloom Selection Chamber.

I walked in, mop in hand, pretending to clean. In reality, my fingers were already clutching a tiny, folded number card.

Number 47, Chloe Sterling.

I squeezed it tight, tucking it under the mop head. With a swift, practiced movement, I pulled out another card and slipped it into the numbered slot.

That card read – Vivian Thorne.

The day of the selection ceremony, the Sterling family's main mansion glittered with gold.

Nine hundred and ninety-nine women arrived, dressed to the nines.

Each one was like a peacock in full display, desperate to show off every ounce of their refined elegance to Alexander Sterling.

"I heard the hot pick this year is Chloe Sterling?"

"That cold face of hers? Does she even *deserve* to be a Sterling wife?"

"Are you blind? Doesn't she look *exactly* like... *her*?"

I stood in the furthest corner, lowering my head, slowly tearing the number card from my collar into tiny pieces.

When the host called out the number, the entire hall fell silent.

"Number 47, Vivian Thorne."

The next second, applause erupted.

Alexander Sterling stormed down the stage, his eyes bloodshot, looking utterly insane.

He yanked Vivian into his arms, holding her so tightly it looked like he wanted to embed her into his very bones.

"Vivian." His voice trembled. "This time... it's finally you."

The entire hall gasped.

Alexander lowered his head to look at Vivian, his gaze tender to the point of madness, a smile uncontrollably spreading across his lips. "You're back. You finally came back."

Vivian leaned against him gently, her cheek pressed to his chest, as if confirming his heartbeat.

But her eyes, subtly, swept across the crowd and settled squarely on me.

I gave a small, knowing smile, as if seeing through her, and through this entire charade.

Alexander Sterling finally looked up at me.

He had surely anticipated my breakdown, my tears, my angry questions.

He’d probably even prepared a speech, ready to comfort me, to offer a sliver of false pity.

Too bad. I didn't give him the chance.

In my previous life, when "Number 47, Chloe Sterling" was called, my eyes had welled up with tears of激动.

I stood beneath the crystal chandeliers, my face flushed, my voice trembling as I called his name.

But Alexander Sterling, seated below the stage, looked terrifyingly cold.

He stared at the shadow at his feet, as if my selection was a personal insult to him.

I raised my hand, calmly applauding them.

*Clap. Clap. Clap.*

The sharp sound echoed, and the entire hall fell silent again.

His expression froze. His throat moved, but no words came out.

I smiled and nodded, my eyes devoid of emotion. "Lord Sterling, you're truly fortunate."

"I wish you both a happy ever after."

His brow furrowed fiercely, his eyes so dark they seemed to bleed.

"Chloe Sterling, what do you mean?"

"I mean nothing." I smiled, turning to walk away.

"You two are perfectly matched."