Back in my home, my cat had turned into a fluffy ball of fur over the winter, resembling an adorable mascot.
With no one around to distract me, I took a shower and relaxed on the couch, scrolling through my iPad.
"Carl, there are so many wedding dress designs! Each one is more stunning than the last—I can't believe how gorgeous they all are."
Without lifting his gaze, Carter continued trimming my toenails. "Just go with the one you love. Don't worry about the cost—I've got it covered."
He wasn't exaggerating. Between Carter's wealth and Bill—my current father—being exceptionally generous over the years, money was the least of our concerns.
Not to mention the stash of gold bars hidden under my bed. Even if we never lifted a finger, there was enough for several lifetimes.
"But I'm just one person. I can't wear all of them at once," I said with a laugh.
"Then choose the features you like most. I'll have a designer create a custom gown for you."
"What about you? What's your preference?"
After a moment's thought, he answered seriously, "A traditional dress. I want us to honor the old customs, complete with all the ceremonies and rituals. I'll shower you with betrothal gifts and see you in a pink wedding dress."
My eyes sparkled. "Are you suggesting a vintage-style wedding?"
He nodded. "That's right. But it's just what I think. It's our only wedding, so I want it to reflect what you truly want."
"This is our wedding," I said, moving closer to him. "How can your opinion not be important?"
I hesitated before asking, "Is it because I once wore a white wedding dress when I married Luke?"
"It's not just that. It's also because you were in a white dress stained with blood. That memory bothers me deeply. And ... "
He trailed off as he finished trimming my last nail, then wiped his hands with a damp towel in an unhurried way.
"I once promised you that I would marry you when I came back," he said, a wistfulness in his voice, the kind only we could understand.
I intertwined my fingers with his. "Alright then. I'll wear the pink wedding dress and marry you properly."
A traditional-style wedding was far more intricate and costly than a modern one. But how often did someone get the chance to marry?
In my previous life, I had waited endlessly, only to never be with the one I loved.
Carter's gaze softened as he promised, "I'll handle everything."
Our eyes met, and my breath caught. I tilted my head up toward him. "Carl ... "
...
The next morning, I woke up sore all over, only to find that Carter had already left for work.
Soon after, Whitney called, asking me to come over. Since she didn't have many friends here, I happily agreed and drove to the Sander residence.
To my surprise, Luke was there.
I hadn't known he had returned since we last parted ways in Jaford. He stood in my room, tall and imposing, his hand brushing lightly against an old photo of us.
Whitney explained, "He said he wanted to take some of your belongings with him."
She must have overheard bits about Luke from our past conversations and likely called me over to avoid any awkwardness between us.
Luke turned to me, holding the photo frame. His eyes were slightly red as he asked, "Chloe, can I keep this photo?"
"Go ahead. I was planning to throw it away anyway."
The memories tied to the Sanders—and to him—no longer held any value to me.
I added, "By the way, Carter and I are planning our wedding."
I felt it was only fair to let him know, given our history.
Luke's hands trembled as he clutched the frame. "That's ... good. I'm happy for you"
As he walked past me, I noticed the streaks of white in his hair that hadn't been there before.
"Were these written by Grandma's friends?" I asked.
Back then, communication wasn't as simple as it was today, so letters were the primary way people stayed in touch.
Kate handed the stack to me. "Take a look."
Each letter was written in elegant, feminine handwriting. Amid the usual greetings, I noticed repeated mentions of the Carlyns.
One letter read, "Penelope, the Carlyns can't be allowed to survive. Destroy them while they're still vulnerable, or they'll become a danger!"
I paused, puzzled. Who was that person, and why did she want Grandma to harm the Carlyns?
I read on, and at the end of one letter, I found a signature—Brynn Chandler.
The name didn't sound familiar to me, so I turned to Kate and asked, "Have you ever heard of Brynn Chandler?"
To my surprise, Josh, who had been sitting quietly with a cigarette, said, "I met her when I was a kid. She's the Commander's wife—the one you've been searching for."
"So, she stayed in contact with Grandma all this time?" I asked, intrigued.
"I'm not sure now. But back then, the Commander's family fled overseas. It seems Brynn reached out to Mom after they left."
"Grandma was truthful—it was the Commander's family who tried to involve her in taking down the Carlyns. But why? The Carlyns were already in such a terrible condition, with everyone having fled overseas. What reason could there be to eliminate them? It doesn't add up."
As I clutched the letters, I couldn't shake the feeling that Grandma had taken more significant secrets to her grave.
"Let's keep searching," I suggested. "There might be more evidence of her later interactions with Brynn."
The other letters, however, were mostly ordinary and unremarkable. Their tone suggested that Brynn and Grandma had maintained a friendly connection.
One letter read, "Penelope, we've settled in now. Whenever you're free, come and visit. I've discovered a great way to make money—you'll earn plenty."
The letter ended there, leaving me with questions. How had Grandma responded to Brynn? Did she refuse her request?
Also, what exactly was this money-making opportunity Brynn had mentioned?
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