Chloe stood in the doorway, her gaze flicking from the single bed to Julian's impassive face.
She crossed her arms, breaking the silence with a voice laced with playful mockery. "One bedroom? Is the Sharpe family going bankrupt? Or did you actually think we'd be sleeping together like a happy couple?"
Zane Foster adjusted his glasses, his response robotic. "It was a rule set by Mr. Sharpe's grandfather. Sharpe couples are required to share a master bedroom, as a show of harmony."
"Harmony?" Chloe laughed, a short, sharp sound. "Look at this place. It feels less like a master suite and more like a high-end containment cell. Are you hiding from the world, or is the world hiding from you?"
"Mr. Sharpe requested this outdated wing himself, Mrs. Sharpe. It is the only place in the estate completely unequipped with modern smart-surveillance."
Ignoring Zane, she walked directly to Julian's wheelchair, looking down at him. The proximity was a deliberate act of provocation.
"Hey, Julian Sharpe," she began, her tone offensively casual. "Are you really paralyzed? Or is it just from the waist down?"
Zane's face paled. "Mrs. Sharpe! Please, watch your language!"
But Julian raised a hand, silencing his assistant. He tilted his head back, his calm blue eyes meeting her challenging gaze without a flicker of emotion.
He spoke slowly, his voice steady and clear. "Loss of function in the lower extremities is called paraplegia. I would have thought someone so eager to provoke me would at least possess basic high school biology."
Chloe froze for a split second.
Julian added dryly, "Your father described you as... 'lacking refinement.' It seems he was not mistaken." He stressed the word "refinement" with a biting sarcasm.
Chloe recovered quickly. She leaned down, her face close to his, her voice a conspiratorial whisper only he could hear. "Since you know so much about me, then you should also know I didn't come to New York to play the submissive victim," she whispered, her breath ghosting across his ear with the faint scent of mint. "We stay out of each other's way, or I'll make sure this arrangement burns us both down."
Julian's body stiffened for a fraction of a second, a tiny frown creasing his brow.
Faced with her threat, Julian merely adjusted his position in the chair. "Is that so?" he said, his tone flat. "I'll look forward to it."
For the first time, she felt a flicker of frustration with this man.
Zane stepped in smoothly. "Mrs. Sharpe, your luggage has arrived. If you require anything, please let me know. Mr. Sharpe needs to rest now." It was a polite dismissal.
Chloe pursed her lips, knowing she had pushed as far as she could for one day. She turned to her bags, deciding to regroup.
Zane pushed Julian's wheelchair toward an adjoining study.
Just before they entered, Julian glanced back at Chloe. Her back was slender but defiant as she wrestled a large canvas duffel bag into the walk-in closet.
A dark, unreadable flicker passed through his deep blue eyes. The claws she hid beneath that ragged exterior were far sharper than anyone in New York realized.
Inside the study, Zane closed the door. "Sir, this woman is outrageous. She has no manners."
"Let her be," Julian said, his eyes on a computer screen displaying Chloe's file. "A fearless pawn is more useful than a spineless one. Keep an eye on her, but don't interfere."
"Yes, sir." Zane nodded, though his eyes were still filled with doubt.
Meanwhile, Chloe unpacked in the dilapidated closet. Besides a few worn-out clothes, there was the heavy canvas bag.
She carefully removed a sealed glass jar from it, filled with dark soil. She caressed the glass, her expression softening. It was from her hometown, Havenwood Creek.
From a hidden compartment, she pulled out a folder alongside a heavily annotated research binder on neurochemical degradation. Inside the folder was her Columbia University acceptance letter and an official SAT score report. A perfect score.
She looked at the items, her resolve hardening. Julian Sharpe, the Sharpe family... they were all just stepping stones. She had to establish a foothold here, then find out the truth.
She glanced around the decaying room and scowled. No, she couldn't live like this. She had to find a way to improve her circumstances.
Closing her suitcase, a calculating glint in her eyes, Chloe walked out of the closet and headed in the direction Zane had gone. She wasn't going to just accept her fate. She was going to fight for it.
