"Who said anything about me getting married?" Arthur had finally had enough. "Mom, you can't just plan my life like this." Madilyn wasn't backing down. "What's that supposed to mean? Everyone already knows about you and Jennifer. You think she can just stay hidden forever?" She spotted Jennifer and Jenarth on the stairs and raised her voice just enough to be sure they'd hear. "Are you not going to take responsibility? She raised Jenarth all by herself. I see how she looks at you. You're both free to be together and you already hooked up. Marrying her is the right thing to do. I've already accepted her as part of this family." Arthur stood there, completely lost for words. Just then, servants started bringing furniture down from upstairs. Arthur's eyes locked onto something—they were taking apart the bed from the master bedroom. That was the room Chloe had slept in after they got married. He'd spent most of his time at the office back then, only coming home now and then. But watching them carry pieces of it away now—it hit him hard. Chloe was really gone, and this was the last stuff she'd left behind. "Leave it alone. That's mine," he snapped, stepping forward. "Who said you could take it apart?" "Stop right there." Madilyn's sharp voice cut through the air, freezing him in his tracks. "You must have seen the news. Your wedding with Jennifer is set. It's happening soon. We need to prepare. Everything in the Myers Manor is being replaced. I had the master bedroom cleared out. Everything will be brand new." Madilyn scoffed. "Cut out those thoughts of yours. Don't embarrass me. You're from the Myers family—act like it. Get ready for the wedding properly." Arthur stood there, feeling numb. "Hurry up and throw all that old stuff out. Clean the room and install the new furniture. Ask Mrs. Myers where everything goes," Madilyn said, nodding toward Jennifer on the stairs."Mom, even if you want me to marry Jennifer, why drag Chloe into this? Now everyone is calling her the other woman. You know she was my wife—" "Enough, Arthur. Stop looking so lovesick. It's disgusting." Madilyn cut him off, her eyes filled with contempt. "How did I raise such a useless son?" "When did I ever mention Chloe's name?" Madilyn shot back. "I don't have time to talk about a woman like that. Those comments are just internet rumors." Arthur had no words. "Listen. You caused this mess. You don't get a say anymore." Madilyn snorted and turned away. Inside, the servants continued working as if nothing had happened. Arthur's presence changed nothing. The master bedroom bed was now just a pile of scrap, while the new one stood there—flashy, extravagant, and completely unfamiliar.Arthur stared at it all and felt truly helpless for the first time. After the media exposed his situation with Jennifer, he had been looking for the right time to explain everything to Chloe. If she was willing, he would do anything for her—even give up his life. He couldn't just rush to her. He needed to come with real sincerity. Lately, he had buried himself in work, planning to start a new company under Chloe's name before begging for her forgiveness. He never expected his mother to announce his wedding publicly in the blink of an eye. The one he loved was Chloe. It took him years to realize it, and by then, it was already too late. "Daddy Arthur!" The voice pulled him back. Arthur looked down and saw Jenarth standing in front of him. He forced his expression to soften. "Does Daddy Arthur hate me?" Jenarth lowered his head, looking deeply hurt. "I don't see any love in your eyes. Maybe I shouldn't have been born. I'm a good kid, but I'm a kid without a dad. I'm a curse. I should just disappear." Hearing Jenarth's choked voice, Arthur crouched down and reached out to touch him. "Jenarth..." Jenarth stepped back, avoiding Arthur's hand. He watched Arthur warily, fear in his eyes—and even more hurt. Arthur didn't know what was wrong with him. He had always felt protective of Jenarth. But just now, when their eyes met, he felt no pity. What he saw in the boy's eyes looked a lot like hatred. He shook his head quickly. Jenarth wasn't even six years old. What kind of schemes could a child that young have? It must be him—too stressed lately, seeing things that weren't there.