Chapter 3The Book of Life and Death

In those dark, sunless days, I sought a sliver of solace in anonymous philanthropy.

Using my substantial dowry and with the help of my father’s loyal former staff, I secretly established several charitable foundations focused on education and medical aid.

The one I poured my heart into the most was the “Starlight Initiative,” a project dedicated to funding early-stage cancer research. Reading the letters of gratitude from those I helped was the only thing that made me feel like a living person, not just a walking corpse.

Adrian was, of course, dismissive of my efforts. “If you have time for these childish, boring games,” he’d sneer, “you should be thinking about how to serve Sierra and make her happy.”

He never imagined that these “boring games” would one day become the very tools he used for his grand performance.

One day, Sierra casually mentioned to the media that she wished she could contribute more to charity. To please her, to paint her as the kindest soul in the world, Adrian used his formidable resources to uncover all the foundations registered under my name.

Then, at a glittering charity gala, in front of a crowd of socialites and reporters, he announced the formation of a new brand: “The Heart of Sierra.”

He took my “Nora Foundation,” the one I had built from the ground up, and gifted it to Sierra on stage, renaming it on the spot.

He forced me to attend that night. I was dressed in a gorgeous but constricting gown he’d chosen for me, sitting in the audience like a doll. I watched as Sierra, in a pristine white dress, walked onto the stage as the "founder," accepting the adoration and praise of thousands.

I shot to my feet, ready to rush the stage, to tell the world that it was mine, that it was all mine!

I had barely taken a step when Adrian materialized at my side like a phantom. His face was wreathed in a gentle smile, but his arm gripped me like an iron vise.

SLAP!

Another sharp, crisp slap, right in front of all the guests behind me. The sound echoed in the silent hall.

Everyone turned to look.

He leaned in close, his voice a venomous whisper only I could hear. “Don’t you dare make a scene. Sit down. Or tomorrow’s headline will be the bankruptcy of the Grey family.”

Then, he straightened up, presenting a pained, tolerant expression to the stunned guests. “My apologies, everyone. My wife… she’s a bit emotionally unstable. Please, forgive her.”

I was frozen in place, listening to the undisguised whispers around me.

“Look at her. Just like they say, she’s not right in the head.”

“Poor Mr. Lowe, married to such an unpresentable madwoman.”

“If it were me, I’d have divorced her long ago. It’s only because he’s so kind that he still brings her out.”

He held me down in my seat, a prisoner being publicly executed.