Chloe stood on the marble threshold.
She had already changed out of her pearl-colored funeral gown and was now wearing one of my silk robes. The sheer audacity of it made my blood run cold, but I forced my face to remain perfectly blank. I had to be broken. I had to be exactly what Victor needed me to be: a grieving, unstable shell of a woman who was too consumed by sorrow to notice the knives being twisted into her back.
"Darling," Victor said, his voice instantly softening as he walked up the steps and wrapped his arms around Chloe. He kissed her deeply, right there in the open doorway, before looking back at me over his shoulder. "Go to the guest room. Chloe is moving into the master suite. You understand, of course. It’s too painful for me to share that space right now."