Chapter 3

When Nate heard the word "fake", his body tensed up suddenly.

Slowly, he raised his head, and his gaze toward Chris was no longer filled with anger but with pity.

He looked at him as if he were a fool who was about to die but didn't even realize it.

"Fake?" he repeated, his voice eerily soft.

Then, he did something that Chris and Cathy would remember forever.

Nate stepped back two paces and, facing me on the bed, dropped to one knee.

He lowered his head, which had always been held so proudly before countless people, until his forehead almost touched the cold floor.

The room was enveloped in silence.

Chris' eyes were bulging in disbelief.

Cathy covered her mouth, trembling.

The indestructible symbol of power in their worldview was kneeling in the most humble posture in front of me, the person they despised.

"Miss Phillips," Nate's voice quivered uncontrollably.

"I... I didn't know it was you. Please forgive me."

I stared at Nate's broad back, remaining silent.

Since I awoke, I hadn't struggled or cried out.

Because I knew that fear and tears were the most useless things in this world.

Now, I needed an explanation.

Chris' mind seemed to have shut down entirely.

He pointed at me and then at Nate, his lips trembling, unable to utter a single word.

Cathy regained some composure, gripping Chris' arm with a piercing voice. "Who is she? Chris, who is she?"

Chris shook his head in confusion.

We had been together for three years and engaged for one.

He knew my parents were involved in "ordinary" international trade, with a well-off background.

But compared to the circles I belonged to, it was insignificant.

He also knew I had a quiet personality, not fond of drawing attention, fitting perfectly into his image of an ideal wife and mother.

Yet, he was unaware of what "international trade" truly entailed in my family.

What he didn't know was that Nate and the entire mafia organization behind him were nothing more than a dog trained by my family's business empire, used to carry out our dirty work.

The raven emblem on my neck was the sole symbol that identified me as the heir to my family's business empire.

To see it was to see the head of the family.