Hearing this, the light in Julian's eyes softened significantly as he ignited the vehicle's engine.

In absolute reality, he harbored a deep desire to tell her that long ago during his youth, the tenderness he reserved for her had already been entirely distinct from how he treated the rest of the world; a young man's hidden devotion was naturally the gentlest asset on earth.

With these thoughts swirled in his mind, he inquired with assumed casualness: "When do you plan to finalize the divorce certificate with Eric?"

Prompted by Julian's inquiry, a sudden realization struck Chloe. Although they had executed the divorce agreement long ago, they had never possessed the opportunity to formally process the actual legal certificate.

Back then, she had signed the divorce agreement under the assumption that once the three-year timeline concluded, Grandfather Vance's corporate shares would default automatically into Eric's possession.

But at the final threshold, she had encountered that near-fatal catastrophe and was ultimately extracted by the senior family butler.

According to the final directives left by Grandfather Vance on his deathbed, if Eric failed to treat her with dignity, those assets and blocks of shares were to be delivered into the butler's hands for reassignment—either transferred into her name as legal restitution or cast into public charity.

Witnessing her narrow escape from the jaws of death after enduring immense suffering, the senior butler had ultimately honored the late patriarch's directives and finalized the transfer of shares to her name.

At this juncture, she and Eric genuinely required that final certificate to permanently sever all structural ties between their existences.

The cabin plunged into a prolonged silence, yet Chloe's mind had already traversed several analytical loops.

"What's wrong? Do you... not want to divorce him?" Julian waited, a distinct trace of anxiety tightening within his chest.

Regarding this matter, Chloe's consciousness remained exceptionally lucid: "I will divorce him. It's just that he will likely be unwilling to cooperate."

A massive weight settled out of Julian's heart upon hearing her stance. As long as her own intentions remained anchored in this direction, any external hurdles could be dismantled through human effort.

His mood appeared to brighten significantly in an instant: "How do you intend to handle the property left by the late patriarch?"

Chloe pondered briefly: "Once the dust thoroughly settles regarding Zack's case, I plan to honor Grandfather Vance's original intention and donate the entirety of it to public charity."

Conversing with Julian was invariably a fluid, effortless endeavor; he possessed an entirely too deep an understanding of her character.

He understood perfectly well that from the very inception of these events, she had never once harbored a desire to retain the late patriarch's fortune for personal indulgence; her sole objective was simply to acquire a position of absolute authority within the city to command a voice.

The vehicle forged ahead through the streets. Suddenly, Chloe's smartphone vibrated with an incoming connection.

The display revealed an entirely unfamiliar number. After a brief hesitation, she depressed the mechanism to connect the call.

"Chloe, do you not harbor a desperate desire to unearth the absolute truth behind your brother's demise? Tomorrow afternoon at five-thirty, meet me at the coastal café."

Before Chloe could manage to articulate a single response, the connection was abruptly terminated from the alternative end.

Chapter 32: Bitter Adversaries Cross Paths

Listening to the rapid, rhythmic drone of the busy tone blaring from the receiver, Chloe's sharp brows furrowed tightly into a deep crease.

"Whatever is the matter? Whose connection was that?" Observing the severe shift in her expression, Julian couldn't resist inquiring.

Chloe's voice dropped into a dark register: "Lyndsey."

The moment the syllables left her lips, the two individuals executed a simultaneous turn to exchange a brief glance, before the cabin plunged into a profound silence.

...

The subsequent afternoon arrived, and following a massive snowfall, the entirety of the city was blanketed under a vast, desolate expanse of pristine white.

The volume of patrons occupying the coastal café was remarkably sparse. Within a private booth facing the window, Chloe's hands were wrapped securely around a cup of warm coffee, her eyes trained onto the ripples vibrating across the liquid's surface.

"Oh, you arrived remarkably early." The heavy fabric curtain shielding the booth was abruptly pulled aside, and Lyndsey's voice echoed through the enclosure.

Chloe abstained from lifting her gaze; the exact instant the sound registered within her consciousness, her eyes merely flickered with a cold light.

Lyndsey confidently assumed the position directly opposite her form, meticulously ordering a cup of Blue Mountain coffee with an air of practiced sophistication.

Throughout the entire process of the server preparing and delivering the beverage, Chloe maintained an absolute, unbroken silence, appearing entirely devoid of any frantic urgency to extract data.

Lyndsey's gaze was dripping with pure contempt, her eyes narrowing slightly: "A mere month of absence appears to have yielded a significant maturity within your character."

Under her original calculations, she had anticipated that the Chloe of a month ago would have lost her absolute sanity, violently clamping her hands around her collar to scream inquiries regarding Zack's tragedy. She had never expected the woman to possess the capacity to sit before her on this day with such tranquil, calculated patience.

Hearing the evaluation, the expression masking Chloe's features experienced absolutely no visible alteration. She slowly lifted her eyes to meet the alternative gaze, her voice perfectly level: "I am an individual who has already crossed the threshold of death once. I possess an eternity of time; since my objective is to force the truth out of your own mouth, I am naturally prepared to wait."

Lyndsey appeared immensely satisfied by her submissive posturing, a wave of secret arrogance saturating her ego, yet she suddenly articulated her terms: "Then I shall refrain from leading your form through futile circles. I am fully prepared to deliver a comprehensive, unfiltered summary of the historical events to your knowledge. However, my cooperation accommodates a strict condition."

"Articulate it."

"I demand the blocks of shares left behind by the late patriarch—eighty percent of the total volume."

"..."

The woman truly possessed the audacity to open her mouth for a staggering sum. Yet, confronted with this massive demand, Chloe's consciousness harbored absolutely no trace of genuine surprise.

She lowered her head slightly, appearing to be locked in deep, calculated deliberation.

Lyndsey tapped her fingers impatiently against the wooden tabletop, her demeanor clearly lacking in baseline patience: "Chloe, strictly in accordance with the realities you possess, if I make the conscious choice to unearth the occurrences of three years ago, the endeavor carries an astronomical degree of personal risk for my own safety."

The smile tracing the corners of Chloe's lips turned thoroughly freezing: "Since your own consciousness recognizes the reality that I harbor a burning desire to secure your permanent imprisonment, you still possess the audacity to negotiate these terms before my face?"

"One cannot catch the wolf without sacrificing the child. I possess absolute data regarding your desperate desires, which is precisely why I command the leverage to demand eighty percent of the corporate shares currently anchored within your grasp."

It appeared this individual was completely convinced of the reality that Chloe possessed absolutely no mechanism to unearth verified evidence regarding the historical vehicular assault, rendering her entirely devoid of any baseline fear.

A dark gleam flashed through Chloe's eyes, and she suddenly inquired in a flat register: "On the night of the charity gala, whatever purpose motivated your steps down the secluded coastal path?"

The moment she resurrected that specific event, she lifted her gaze to monitor the reaction, and predictably, she witnessed the color rapidly drain from Lyndsey's features for a fraction of a second before she forced her face back to normal.

"Whatever nonsense are you articulating into the air? Throughout the entirety of that evening, my presence remained anchored within the primary hall; I have never once set foot upon the path you mentioned." Lyndsey's micro-expressions remained visibly compromised by panic.

Chloe took a shallow, elegant sip from her coffee cup: "There is absolutely no necessity to masquerade in such an innocent manner before my face. On that evening, my own eyes personally monitored your physical departure down that path, clad in a long, heavy trench coat."

Slam!

The final syllable had barely resonated through the enclosure when Lyndsey slammed her palm violently against the wood: "Chloe, I am issuing a final warning to cease your absolute fabrications and groundless accusations!"

Observing the extreme volatility defining Lyndsey's reaction, absolute confirmation settled into Chloe's mind. She let out a soft, mocking chuckle: "Whatever is the catalyst for such intense agitation? I merely inquired as to your objective on that path; I never articulated a definitive claim regarding your actions. Or perhaps—"

She intentionally dragged out the final syllable, before delivering the killing stroke: "Are you consumed by an intense terror that the authorities will map the violent demise of that man named Matthew Vance directly to your identity?"