Chapter 3

Chloe's POV

Early the next morning, I got out of bed.

I dug out the dress I had retrieved from the trash bin the night before and slipped it on, dressed Dotty in her little pink coat, braided her dull, dry hair into two neat plaits, and tied them with red ribbon bows.

"Mommy, are we really going to pick up Daddy today?" Dotty looked up, her eyes brimming with curiosity.

I crouched down and adjusted her collar. "Yes, we are."

I had to go.

I wanted to see just how much longer Lucas Foster could keep wearing that mask, and how far he could take this farce.

More importantly, I couldn't arouse any suspicion before I left.

If Lucas discovered that I intended to run away with Dotty, given the Foster family's vast influence in New York, I would never be able to escape.

Holding Dotty by the hand, I rode the bus for an hour before finally arriving at the prison gates.

From a distance, I spotted that familiar silhouette.

Lucas Foster stood outside the prison entrance, dressed in an impeccably tailored charcoal suit, his leather shoes polished to a mirror shine. He looked completely well-off and vibrant.

George Foster, Susan Foster, and Victoria Foster gathered around him, flanked by two sleek black luxury sedans.

"Lucas, look, Chloe is here," Victoria was the first to notice me, her tone laced with undisguised mockery.

Lucas turned his head, his gaze settling on me.

In that split second, the expression on his face shifted.

He shoved Victoria aside and sprinted toward me at full speed.

"Chloe!"

He pulled up right in front of me, his eyes frantically searching me from head to toe. His brows drew tighter and tighter, his gaze flooded with heartache.

Looking at that face etched with deep concern, an icy wave of cynicism washed over me.

How had I lived?

All those impoverished days, the humiliation of having my food stalls overturned, the disgrace of Victoria blocking my door to splash paint, the sheer helplessness of kneeling outside a rundown clinic in the dead of winter, begging a doctor to save my feverish child...

How could I not be skin and bones? How could I not look worn down?

Yet I wouldn't utter a single word about any of it.

Lowering my gaze, I let my lips curve into a fragile, faint smile. "Maybe it's... because I've missed you so much over these past four years."

Lucas's Adam's apple bobbed. A layer of guilt welled in his eyes, turning them instantly bloodshot.

He reached out and pulled me fiercely into his embrace, his grip so tight it felt as though he wanted to crush me into his very bones.

"I missed you too. Every single day of these four years, I missed you." His chin rested atop my head, his voice low and laden with tender devotion. "Every day I spent in there, I dreamed of this moment—dreamed of seeing you again, of bringing you and our daughter home. Chloe, we'll never be apart again."

His chest was warm and broad, yet all I felt was a bone-chilling cold.

It seeped from the deepest marrow of my bones, spreading bit by bit to every corner of my body.

Then, the tears spilled over.

I wept for my utter stupidity throughout these years, and for all the degradation and agony I had endured.

It felt as though a gaping wound had torn open in my chest, blood pouring out, hurting so sharply I could hardly breathe.

I desperately wanted to ask him...

*You never served time—why did you lie to me?*

*You lived in such absolute bliss these past four years—why did you leave me to rot in hell?*

*Do you have any idea how much suffering I endured just waiting for you?*

Yet I bit down hard on my lip, until I tasted the metallic tang of blood, without voicing a single accusation.

I couldn't confront him.

I feared that the moment I opened my mouth, I wouldn't be able to hold back the flood of resentment and rage tearing through me.

If that happened, I would never get away.

"All right, don't cry anymore." Lucas released me and raised a hand to wipe the tears from my cheeks, his touch exquisitely gentle. "Haven't I come back to you? With me here from now on, I'll never let you suffer another grievance."

His gaze shifted past me, landing on Dotty behind my legs.

"This is our daughter, isn't she?" He leaned down, a warm, gentle smile spreading across his face. "She's so beautiful, just like you."

He reached out, wanting to gather Dotty into his arms.

Dotty, however, recoiled in terror, ducking swiftly behind me and gripping the hem of my trousers with both tiny hands.

"Dotty, don't be afraid. I'm Daddy," Lucas coaxed softly.

Dotty buried her face against my leg, refusing to look up no matter what.

Watching from the side, Victoria scowled deeply and snapped in an abrasive tone, "He is your father! Hiding the second you see your own father—just how has your mother been raising you these past four years?"

A sudden flare of fury surged in my chest.

Over the years, Victoria had targeted and humiliated me countless times.

In the past, for Lucas's sake, I swallowed it again and again.

But today, I didn't want to hold back anymore.

Yet just as I was about to speak, Lucas stepped in first, smoothing things over in a gentle voice: "Don't speak to her like that. This is the first time I've met our daughter. She's still little, so it's only natural for her to be shy around me. We have all the time in the world ahead of us—there's no need to rush her into getting close right this second."

Victoria scoffed, but in the end, she didn't push any further.

I cast my eyes downward, swallowing the words that had risen to my throat.

I had nearly forgotten—I came here today to play a part.

Not to pick a fight.

"Let's go, the car is waiting over there." Lucas naturally took my hand. "My parents put together a banquet for me today. You're coming with me."