Volume 2: The Feast Above the Lies
Irene stood in front of Carl. The hustle and bustle of the dance floor seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them. His gaze was like a deep lake, gentle yet hiding swirling currents, making her feel an inexplicable sense of unease.
"Fate? I don't believe in it," Irene repeated firmly. Surviving in the slums had taught her that fate was in her own hands, not in the hands of some elusive gods.
Upon hearing this, a faint smile played on Carl's face. "That's a pity," he tilted his head slightly and stared at Irene. "Perhaps one day you'll understand that some things are determined by fate, and there's no escaping them. Just like... the iris. No matter whether it grows in fertile soil or barren land, it will strive to bloom."
Irene's heart skipped a beat. He knew. He knew everything. About her, about Olivia, about the lie of the impersonation.
"Mr. Howard, what exactly do you want?" Irene asked again, a barely noticeable tremor in her voice.
Instead of answering directly, Carl pointed to a secluded corner outside the dance floor. "How about we find a quieter place to talk? It's too crowded and conspicuous here."
Irene hesitated for a moment but finally nodded. She knew that running away was not the solution. Facing Carl was like looking into a mirror that reflected the truth she didn't want to confront.
The two made their way through the crowd and arrived at a lounge area adorned with sculptures. The lighting here was dim, with only a few wall lamps casting a soft glow, making the silhouettes of the sculptures look even more eerie.
Carl gracefully motioned for Irene to sit down while he stood beside her, gazing at her with profound eyes. "The secrets of the Rockefeller family are far more complex than you can imagine. Irene... or should I call you Miss Olivia Burnett?"
Irene's face instantly turned pale. She tried to control her emotions and said coldly, "You know everything?"
Carl nodded, his tone calm and gentle. "I recognized you the first time you appeared in my gallery. The aura around you, that wildness of despair and the longing to break free from fate, is completely different from Olivia's."
"Then why didn't you expose me?" Irene's voice carried a hint of accusation. If Carl had exposed her from the start, she wouldn't be stuck in the quagmire of the Rockefeller family now, nor would she have developed... those complex feelings for Sean.
Carl slowly walked up to Irene, bent down, and stared into her eyes. "Because I'm very interested in you. You're a smart woman, Irene, or should I say, Olivia. You have the courage to challenge fate, to use a lie to get everything you want. That kind of courage is fascinating."
A chill ran down Irene's spine. Carl's tone wasn't one of admiration but rather the playful scrutiny of a hunter eyeing its prey.
"What do you want?" Irene asked, getting straight to the point. She didn't believe Carl would help her out of the goodness of his heart.
Carl straightened up and wore a mysterious smile. "I want the truth. The truth about the Rockefeller family, the truth about Sean Rockefeller, and... your truth, Olivia Burnett."
"You think I'll tell you?" Irene sneered.
"You will," Carl said with absolute confidence. "Because we have a common enemy, the Rockefeller family. They have what we both want, or rather, they took away what we both want."
Carl's words confused Irene. What had the Rockefeller family taken from him? What kind of feud could there be between an art gallery owner and a shipping magnate?
"I don't understand," Irene admitted frankly.
"You will soon," Carl walked over to a nearby table, picked up a glass, and poured himself a glass of champagne. "Tell me, Irene, what did you find in the basement of the rose garden?"
Irene fell silent. She knew she couldn't escape Carl's scrutiny. She slowly told Carl about her discovery in the basement, about Sean's mother's diary and the dark history of the Rockefeller family.
After listening, Carl's eyes grew even deeper. "Isabella Rockefeller's death was no accident. It was a carefully planned murder by the Rockefeller family to cover up the truth."
"You know the truth?" Irene asked eagerly.
Carl nodded. "I once investigated Isabella's death, but the Rockefeller family's influence was too powerful, and I couldn't dig deeper. Now, with you, perhaps I can uncover the truth."
"Why are you so obsessed with Isabella's death?" Irene asked. She felt Carl's focus on Isabella's death was excessive, as if he was hiding some secret.
Carl was silent for a moment before slowly saying, "Isabella is my mother."
Irene's eyes widened in shock. Carl Howard was actually Isabella Rockefeller's illegitimate son!
"This... This can't be possible," Irene said in disbelief.
"This is the truth," Carl's voice was calm yet sorrowful. "The Rockefeller family kicked my mother out to maintain their reputation and claimed she had died. I've had to live under an assumed name, quietly investigating the truth to avenge my mother."
Irene finally understood. Carl hadn't approached her just out of interest. It was because they shared a common goal—to destroy the Rockefeller family.
"Now, do you understand, Irene? We're allies. We can help each other uncover the truth about the Rockefeller family." Carl extended his hand, offering an invitation.
Looking at Carl's outstretched hand, Irene hesitated. Cooperating with Carl was undoubtedly a deal with the devil, but she also knew that it was almost impossible to fight the Rockefeller family alone.
She took a deep breath and grasped Carl's hand. "Alright, I agree. Let's cooperate."
Carl firmly held Irene's hand and smiled in satisfaction. "Good, Irene. From now on, we're each other's most dangerous allies."
Just then, a familiar voice came from behind them. "Irene, I've been looking for you everywhere."
Sean stood not far away, his face gloomy. His deep eyes were filled with jealousy and anger.
"What are you two doing?" he demanded, his tone hostile.
Irene quickly let go of Carl's hand and walked over to Sean. "It's nothing. We were just chatting."
Sean's gaze shifted between Irene and Carl, full of suspicion. "Really? It seems to me that you two are hiding something."
Carl gracefully stepped forward and smiled at Sean. "Sean, you're misunderstanding. I was just asking Miss Irene for some advice on art."
Sean snorted, his tone sarcastic. "Is that so? Mr. Howard's understanding of art is becoming increasingly extensive."
Tension filled the air. Irene knew that Sean had started to doubt her. She had to be extremely cautious to prevent her secret from being exposed.
"Sean, I'm feeling a bit tired and want to go back and rest," Irene said, breaking the deadlock.
Sean nodded, put his arm around Irene's waist, and said tenderly, "Alright, I'll accompany you."
Sean led Irene away from the lounge area, leaving Carl standing there alone.
Carl watched their retreating figures and wore a meaningful smile.
"The show has just begun..." he murmured, his tone laden with the smell of conspiracy.
Back in her room, Irene's heart still couldn't calm down. Leaning against the window, she stared at the pitch - black night sky, lost in thought.
Carl's appearance was like a stone thrown into a calm lake, stirring up ripples. She didn't know if cooperating with Carl was the right decision, but she knew there was no turning back.
The secrets of the Rockefeller family were like a huge whirlpool, pulling her in deeper and deeper. And she could only keep struggling to find a chance to survive.
She looked up at the sky, searching for a glimmer of light among the countless stars. She knew that the feast above the lies would eventually meet a bloody end.