Chapter 6: A Twisted Inheritance

Here it came. The real reason for this little tea party.

Sharon slipped into her role with practiced speed. Tears came on command today, and she could stop them just as easily.

Still, stopping too abruptly would look suspicious. Sharon dabbed at her cheeks with a tissue, her pale, delicate face left with pink-rimmed eyes and a flushed nose that made her look utterly defenseless.

"Aunt Victoria," she choked out, her voice trembling softly. "You watched Ethan grow up, so you know what his temper was like better than anyone. When we were together, I was always the one making compromises. After a while, anyone would get exhausted. That's why I brought up breaking up... I honestly thought he’d at least try to hold onto me. Who knew he'd just turn around and walk away without a second glance..."

Fresh tears spilled over her lashes, cascading down her cheeks like a tragic, beautiful spring rain. Even Victoria Vance couldn't help but feel a flicker of pity for the girl.

In Victoria's eyes, Sharon was hopelessly, foolishly in love with her stepson. It looked as though Sharon had dumped Ethan, but in reality, it seemed far more likely that Ethan had grown tired of her first and tossed her aside. Which was... strange.

When Ethan used to bring Sharon around, Victoria could distinctly feel how differently he treated her. The dark, icy glare he usually reserved for his family would thaw into pure warmth whenever his gaze fell on Sharon. A look that romantic, that intense, was impossible to fake.

Yet, as a woman who had seen her fair share of men, Victoria knew a man’s love was a fleeting thing. Even if it was genuine at first, time naturally bred boredom. Men always preferred the new over the old; it was simply their nature. Thinking of it this way, a wave of patronizing sympathy welled up inside her.

"Ah, it's all my fault for not raising him better, letting a sweet girl like you suffer," Victoria sighed, patting her hand. "Did Ethan ever reach out to you after the breakup? Did he... leave anything behind with you?"

"Leave anything behind?" Sharon wiped her face dry, picking up her porcelain plate and taking a small bite of the toffee pudding.

The moment the dessert hit her tongue, Sharon felt like she had been struck square in the jaw. The cloying sweetness was enough to make her head spin. It was no exaggeration: eating a single bite of this stuff felt like it warranted an immediate insulin shot. She wouldn't even need her driver to take her home—she’d be marching in a straight line out of sheer sugar-induced delirium.

Sharon was now a hundred percent certain she had never eaten this horrifying, unforgettable concoction during her previous visit to the Pierce mansion.

"Like... a generous break-up settlement?" Victoria probed subtly, leaning closer. "Or perhaps he returned the things you gifted him during your relationship?"

Sharon managed to swallow the sickly sweet bite, taking a quick sip of hot black tea to clear her dulled senses.

A break-up settlement? Ethan’s departure back then had been far colder and more ruthless than hers ever was. The more Sharon thought about it, the angrier she became. Who had wronged whom? What right did he have to act so arrogant, and how dare he strut around her apartment acting like he owned the place now?

Maybe it was her bruised pride talking, or maybe it was the absurd amount of sugar giving her a surge of resentment, but Sharon blurted out without missing a beat:

"Actually, yes. He packed up everything I had ever given him and sent it back to me. I threw it all straight into the trash."

"You threw it away?!" Victoria shrieked, bolting upright from the sofa.

Sharon flinched at the sudden outburst. A stray thought popped into her head—the fox finally showed its tail.

Realizing how badly she had lost her composure, Victoria smoothed her qipao and sat back down, offering a strained, awkward smile. "Auntie just thinks it's a shame, darling. After all, those were gifts you chose with so much love. He had a stubborn mouth, and you were stubborn too. If you two had just talked things through, maybe you wouldn't have broken up... Where exactly did you throw it?"

Sharon blinked, her wide eyes the picture of sweet innocence. "Just in the public dumpster outside. It's been so long now; I'm sure it was processed at the waste station months ago."

Victoria reached over, gently stroking Sharon's long, silky hair. "Well, what's done is done. It breaks my heart to think how much thought you put into those gifts, only for him not to cherish them."

She leaned in, dropping her voice to a dramatic whisper. "To be completely honest with you... I consulted a spiritual master recently. He said Ethan died under such bizarre circumstances that his spirit carries heavy resentment. We need to burn all his personal belongings to cleanse the energy, or his ghost might haunt the living. Could you tell Auntie the exact time and place you threw those things out? The items might be gone, but I can bring the master there to perform a ritual."

Sharon inwardly called her insane. A ritual? We live in a modern, civilized society, yet this woman was acting completely unhinged. Besides, the "ghost" in question wasn't even dead—he was currently lounging in her bedroom! Was Victoria treating her like a complete idiot, or did she just have a guilty conscience?

Sharon put on a deep, pensive expression, tapping her chin. "Let me think... The location... I think it was near the western suburbs? There's a coffee shop in that district called Tender... Wait, no, maybe it was outside the private apartment Ethan used to stay at? I'm so sorry, Aunt Victoria, I had a bit of wine that night so my memory is hazy. I just remember it was nighttime, and there was a rich scent of coffee in the air... As for the time... about four months ago? Somewhere around February twentieth, I think."

The distance from the western suburbs to Ethan’s private residence was over twenty kilometers. Worse still, Victoria had no idea which apartment Ethan actually lived in—she had never cared enough about her stepson to know his address. Pressing Sharon further would completely shatter her "doting stepmother" facade. She’d just have to ask the house butler later.

After a few more minutes of mind-draining small talk, Sharon couldn't stand it any longer. Victoria seemed equally eager to wrap things up—likely desperate to go dig through city dumpsters.

Sharon stood up first. "I've taken up too much of your time today, Aunt Victoria. I should head back."

"Stay for dinner, sweetie!" Victoria offered half-heartedly. "We just hired a new British chef. His cooking is divine."

A British chef? Divine cooking?

Sharon maintained a polite smile and shook her head. "No, thank you. This house is far too full of Ethan’s presence. If I stay any longer, I'm afraid I'll break down again. May I... go up to Ethan’s room one last time just to say goodbye?"

Victoria naturally couldn't refuse. "Of course, darling." She escorted Sharon up the private elevator to Ethan’s suite.

Ethan’s room was the largest suite on the east wing, second only to the master bedroom. When the double doors pushed open, the interior was spotlessly clean, completely devoid of any human presence. He had rarely stayed here anyway.

Sharon walked a slow perimeter around the room. Victoria showed no intention of leaving, trailing two paces behind her like a warden monitoring a thief.

"Aunt Victoria," Sharon murmured, turning around softly. "May I have a moment alone?"

Victoria hesitated, a flash of reluctance in her eyes.

Sharon’s eyes welled with fresh tears. "I just want to say my final goodbye to him in private."

With Sharon putting it like that, Victoria had no excuse left. She gently pulled the double doors shut, keeping her voice sweet. "Call us if you need anything, dear."

Sharon nodded. Once the doors clicked shut, her tearful expression vanished. She surveyed the pristine room—there wasn't a single personal item belonging to Ethan left in sight. She guessed his stepfamily had long since looted his valuables and thrown out the rest.

Sharon lowered herself onto the leather sofa with a small frown. For a brief, fleeting second, she almost felt sorry for Ethan.

The room had been sealed shut for too long, lacking any warmth or air circulation, making it feel oppressive. The sickeningly sweet taste of that toffee pudding still coated the back of her throat, making her faintly nauseous.

She remembered visiting this room years ago. Back then, it hadn't felt this lifeless. At the very least, the quirky little trinkets she had bought him were displayed prominently on his nightstand, completely clashing with his stark, minimalist decor.

Sharon slumped sideways on the sofa, her gaze drifting aimlessly across the dark rug near the bed. Her eyes glazed over, losing focus... until something caught the upper-left corner of her vision.

Sharon blinked, sharpening her gaze. Why was there a small, miscolored patch beneath the wooden frame of Ethan’s bed platform?

It was hidden deep within a narrow crevice under the frame where light rarely reached. If Sharon didn't possess exceptional night vision, she would have missed it entirely.

She sat up slowly, casting a quick glance at the door to ensure she was in the blind spot of the door frame before quietly creeping over.

Stretching her arm beneath the low platform, her fingers dug into the tight gap until she felt something soft and plush. She dragged it out.

It was a plush Duffy Bear bag charm—the exact one Ethan had shamelessly snatched from her months ago. Back then, no matter how much she begged, he had refused to give it back, claiming he wanted to hang it in his car. It had hung from the rearview mirror of his Maybach for a long time.

So what was the meaning of this? After their breakup, her gift was only worthy of being stuffed under his bedboard?

The thought sent a sudden rush of annoyance through her. Sharon squeezed her fist tight, crushing the plush toy in her grip.

At that exact second, miles away, a sharp, deafening screech echoed through Ethan’s earpieces. He yanked the hidden receiver out of his ear with a hiss, rubbing his throbbing eardrum.

Did she find it?

The hard plastic eye of the Duffy Bear dug painfully into Sharon’s palm. Annoyed, she unzipped her handbag, shoved the bear inside, and decided she was done playing grieving ex. She pulled open the doors and walked out into the corridor.

The moment she stepped into the hallway, a low, smooth male voice sounded from her side.

"Still missing my brother?"

A young man was leaning casually against the wall, an unlit cigarette dangling between his lips. Between his long, slender fingers, a sleek black-and-gold DuPont lighter flickered with a rhythmic click.

Having wept her way through the afternoon with Victoria, Sharon’s face was still flushed, subtle tear tracks lingering on her cheeks.

She looked up at Julian Pierce. Unlike his older half-brother Ethan, Julian possessed a softer, almost feminine beauty. His features were indisputably gorgeous, but if you looked closely, there was an underlying, shadowy malice in his demeanor.

Now that Ethan was "dead," Julian had officially taken over all the operations of the family empire.

Sharon had zero interest in speaking to anyone in this family. She ignored him completely, stepping past him toward the elevator.

Seeing her tear-stained face, Julian’s chest constricted sharply. He snatched the cigarette from his mouth, tossed it carelessly onto the polished marble floor, and strode after her on long legs.

"You're crying? Why are you crying for him? A man like my brother isn't worth a single one of your tears."

Sharon pressed the elevator button and stood dead center, staring straight ahead, treating him like invisible air.

Julian watched her with a deeply pained expression, his voice softening into a desperate murmur. "Sharon... he isn't worth it."

"I heard your conversation with my mother earlier," he continued, taking a step closer. "I can't believe he treated you like that. How could he dare hurt you? If you were mine, I would never let you shed a single tear."

Sharon finally deigned to glance at him, though her gaze was icy and devoid of warmth. The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime. Sharon stepped inside and pressed the button for the ground floor.

Julian rushed in before the doors could close.

"Sharon, my brother is dead. Dead men don't come back to life! Besides, he treated you like garbage... Why... why can't you just look at me for once?"

By the end of his plea, his voice cracked slightly, carrying the subtle rasp of suppressed emotion.

Sharon turned her head slowly, her clear eyes searching his face for an agonizingly long moment until the elevator reached the first floor and the doors slid open.

Julian held his breath, his heart hammering against his ribs under her steady gaze.

Sharon offered him a faint, picture-perfect smile. "There. I’ve looked at you."

Victoria Vance was waiting in the main foyer. Seeing Julian emerge from the elevator right behind Sharon, a flash of delight lit up her face.

"Julian! When did you get back?" she said smoothly. "Perfect timing. Why don't you drive Sharon back to her place?"

Sharon immediately opened her mouth to decline. "That won't be necessary—"

Before she could finish, Julian had already sprinted out toward the garage, flashing a bright, eager smile over his shoulder. "Wait for me, Sharon!"

Before Sharon could utter another word of refusal, he was gone. She reconsidered—a free ride was a free ride. If he wanted to act as her chauffeur, so be it.

Julian deliberately dismissed his personal driver, insisting on taking the wheel himself.

Once seated in the passenger side, Sharon clicked her seatbelt into place and threw a cold command at him: "Don't speak to me."

Julian was surprisingly obedient. He didn't say another word. Yet, as he gripped the steering wheel, his heart pounded harder than it ever had in his life. This was the very first time Sharon had ever sat in his passenger seat. He couldn't help but fantasize—when she stepped out, would she leave behind a stray strand of her fragrant hair on his leather seat?

When they stopped at a red light, he couldn't resist turning his head to steal a glance at her. She was staring out the window, giving him a view of her delicate profile, the soft pink tip of her ear, and the subtle sparkle of her pearl earring.

The drive to her estate wasn't long. Julian had briefly considered taking a longer, scenic detour, but lacked the courage to cross her. He drove her straight back to her front gates following the standard route.

Sharon unbuckled her seatbelt, offering a polite, distant "Thank you," and reached for the door handle.

Julian suddenly reached out, grabbing her wrist. Her wrist was delicate and surprisingly cool against his warm palm. The silky texture of her skin sent a wave of heat straight to his throat, forcing him to quickly, nervously pull his hand back.

"Sharon... I didn't mean to touch you like that."

"Is there something else?" Sharon tucked her hand away without a sound, rubbing the spot where his warm fingers had rested with subtle distaste.

"Sharon..." Julian seemed to gather every ounce of courage he possessed. "I am the head of the Pierce family now. My wealth is yours to spend as you please, and my power is more than enough to protect you. The truth is... I’ve been in love with you for a very long time. Can't you give me a chance? At least... don't reject me so coldly?"

KRRRRZZZZT—

A sharp burst of static hissed through the receiver, and the audio signal cut out entirely. The bug had gone dead.

Miles away in her bedroom, Ethan ripped the remaining earpiece off his ear and hurled it across the desk. He stood up abruptly, a dark, suffocating wave of rage rising from the depths of his chest.

Of all the times for that bloody device to break down... why now?