Chapter 2

Chloe Lin POV

Laughter and chatter soon resumed inside the room.

Out in the hallway, I stood trembling from head to toe, almost hearing the sound of my own heart shattering into pieces.

He was never in prison...

Lucas Foster never spent a single day behind bars!

He lied to me!

Just then, Lucas seemed to sense something and casually glanced toward the doorway.

Through the half-open crack, our gazes crossed for a split second.

My heart seized violently. Pure instinct took over—I let go of the cart, spun on my heel, and hurried toward the other end of the corridor.

The very next second after I vanished around the corner, the dining room door was pulled open from inside.

Hidden in the shadows, I saw Lucas stride out.

Standing in the hallway, he swept a piercing gaze across the empty corridor, his brow furrowed deep.

A waiter happened to walk past, and Lucas caught him by the arm. "Does this hotel have an employee named Chloe Lin?"

"Chloe Lin?" The waiter blinked, shaking his head. "No one by that name works here, sir."

Lucas’s frown deepened.

Just as he opened his mouth to press further, the click of high heels echoed from behind.

"Lucas, what's wrong?" Yvonne Qiao stepped out, affectionately taking his arm, her eyes full of concern. "What are you looking for?"

Lucas’s gaze remained fixed at the end of the hallway. "I thought I saw Chloe."

"Chloe?" Yvonne looked astonished. "Why would she be here?"

"I'm not sure." Lucas slowly pulled his gaze back, an edge of irritation in his voice. "She was wearing a mask, so I couldn't see her face clearly, but her eyes and her silhouette... they looked so much like hers."

Victoria Foster’s voice drifted out from the room. "Lucas, you're seeing things. Chloe Lin has been living comfortably outside all these years, looked after by the servants we hired. Why on earth would she come to a place like this to work as a server?"

Susan Foster agreed from inside, "The waiter just said there's no one by that name here. You're just overthinking it."

Lucas fell silent for a moment, the tension in his furrowed brow easing slightly.

"Let's go back inside and finish dinner."

He placed an arm around Yvonne Qiao’s shoulders and turned back into the dining room.

Meanwhile, I fled back to the kitchen as if running for my life.

I braced myself against the wall, chest heaving violently, my head buzzing as though thousands of needles were piercing my brain all at once.

Just then, footsteps approached from behind.

"Chloe?"

I whipped around to find the hotel manager standing nearby, his expression grim.

"Sir..." my voice came out raspy.

The manager hurried over and lowered his voice. "Someone just told me people from the Foster family are asking around about you. How on earth did they spot you?"

"Didn't I tell you that they could never find out you're working here?"

I parted my lips, but my throat felt completely choked up.

The boss sighed. "Chloe, I know life has been hard on you, but my business can't afford that kind of trouble. If the Foster family finds out I've been harboring you, my hotel is done for. Just... pack your things, take this month's pay, and get out of here."

I knew the boss had already been more than kind to me.

All these years, not a single person in the entirety of New York dared to hire me; only he took me in out of pity.

I couldn't drag him down with me.

"Thank you, sir." I bowed deeply to him. "Thank you for taking care of me all this time."

The boss waved his hand dismissively and pulled an envelope from his pocket, shoving it into my hands. "Here's your wages for this month. I added an extra half month's pay. Take it, and leave through the back door."

I took the envelope, my fingers trembling slightly.

I turned and walked toward the corner of the kitchen. Dotty was leaning over a stool, playing with a puzzle. Seeing me approach, she looked up with a radiant smile on her little face. "Mommy, are you done working?"

I crouched down, gathered my daughter into my arms, and held her tightly.

"Mommy?" Sensing something was wrong, Dotty asked in a whisper, "What's the matter?"

"Nothing." I sniffled, doing my best to make my voice sound normal. "Dotty, we have to go."

"Where are we going?" Dotty asked, tilting her head.

"Home first."

Picking up my daughter, I slipped out of the hotel through the back door.

By the time we returned to our partitioned cubicle, dusk had already fallen.

The room was barely eighty square feet. A single bed, a small table, and a makeshift wardrobe took up every inch of space.

After coaxing Dotty to sleep, I sat on the edge of the bed. Looking at my daughter's gaunt, pale face, my tears finally broke free.

I clamped a hand over my mouth, refusing to let out a sound.

Four years. Four whole years.

Lucas Foster had promised he would marry me the moment he got out.

He promised he would give us the best of everything.

His letters were so earnest, so resolute—every word felt like a vow carved deep into my heart.

Yet he never went to prison.

For these past four years, he hadn't spent a single day behind bars.

He had lived so lavishly out here, surrounded by wealth and family.

And what about me?

I was crammed into an eight-foot cubicle with our daughter, choking down stale bread and cold tap water, watching my street stalls get trashed, having Victoria Foster show up at my doorstep to throw paint.

Like an utter fool, clinging to those fraudulent hopes, I clawed and fought just to survive in the gutter.

How ridiculous.

So this was what he called love.

Every ounce of hope and faith shattered completely in that instant. I wiped the tears from my face with force.

This place was filled with nothing but deceit and oppression.

The Foster family, Lucas Foster, and every single indifferent bystander—I never wanted to see any of them ever again.

Grit my teeth, I resolved to take Dotty and leave this sickening city behind.

However, Dotty was without legal identity, making it impossible to leave through normal channels.

I scoured every source until I finally discovered that five days from now, a cruise ship bound for Boston would depart, and it didn't require any identification papers for children to board.

Boston was far away—far enough that the Foster family's reach couldn't touch us.

I could start over there and raise Dotty properly.

Having made up my mind, I decisively bought a one-way ticket to Boston for five days later.