Chapter 112

The crash of a picture frame shattered the tense mood. I'd witnessed similar scenes too often; my reaction was muted compared to the first time.

Chase had always been a good man. We'd been together for years, but it was only six months ago, during a drunken night, that we became intimate. That night, I conceived.

Chase and Nicole rarely engaged in passionate encounters. It seemed he'd experienced a taste of intense passion and had no reservations left. His treatment of Nicole was disrespectful; she was nearly nude while he was impeccably dressed.

He quickly retrieved the shattered frame, his eyes blazing with hatred. Why the sudden animosity after only a few days? Just moments before, he'd been frantically searching for me. What had Nicole told him?

He violently smashed the frame again, glass scattering across the floor. Leaning against the desk, veins bulging in his neck, Nicole hugged him from behind, whispering, "Chase, she's not worth it."

What? I'd only been with Grandma for a few days, and suddenly, the situation was incomprehensible.

Chase remained silent, carrying Nicole to the bedroom. While she seemed enthusiastic, his actions appeared more like a release of pent-up frustration. What was he venting?

To find out, I observed silently for a long time. Never had I imagined watching my husband and sister together like this, after my death. The irony wasn't lost on me.

Their encounter continued into the afternoon, eventually ending with Chase sending Nicole away. He even instructed her to discard my photographs. His erratic behavior was maddening.

As evening approached, Chase sat on the rumpled bed, smoking. His behavior was baffling. He seemed to enjoy himself with Nicole, yet upon her departure, he acted as if the world had wronged him.

In the dim light, he opened his phone's photo gallery. There was a picture of me, in bed with another man. Nicole was a master manipulator. How many photos had she taken after my death?

No wonder Chase had the wrong impression. I’d seen it myself—my body had been treated with a drug, making it appear I was merely asleep, flawless and undisturbed. In his mind, I was the betrayer; he didn't know the woman in the photo was already dead.

Now I understood his sudden change of heart. He believed I'd betrayed him, and he took his anger out on Nicole. Little did he know, this was precisely what she wanted.

What a fool I was to worry about something so trivial.

Mark's injuries in Shadowmoor had stalled his investigation into Nicole. But my apprehension intensified. Nicole was playing a dangerous game.

From her attack on me, to pressuring Grandma for shares, and now manipulating Chase, her plan was far larger than my death. I felt that my death was merely the beginning of her scheme.

What else was she planning? The Kennedy family? The Reyes family? The scariest thing wasn't dying; it was the uncertainty of the future. Unfortunately, I couldn't contact Nicole, leaving me completely unaware of her next move.