Volume 3: The End of the Lies and the Rebirth of the Iris
Volume Introduction: Irene's revenge plan gradually reaches a fever pitch, and her relationships with Sean and Carl become even more complicated. The truth is gradually coming to light, but it is also accompanied by greater dangers. She must make a final choice to determine her own fate and the future of the Rockefeller family.
The thick fog emerged like a greedy beast from the depths of the sewer, greedily licking at the Victorian-style buildings. The cobblestone streets were soaked by the damp moisture, reflecting the dim yellow light of the street lamps, like countless peering eyes. The light of the street lamps struggled to penetrate the thick fog but only formed a hazy halo around, making the scene even more eerie, as if it were the breath of a ghost.
Irene stood in front of the towering iron gate of the Rockefeller Manor, feeling the damp chill seeping into her bones. The cold ironwork glinted with a cold light under her slender fingers. There were exquisitely carved irises, the emblem of the Rockefeller family and also a symbol of her revenge. Each petal was like a sharp blade, constantly reminding her how false her identity was.
Tonight, an unusual sense of oppression hung in the air. It wasn't just because of the continuous rainy days. The city was always shrouded in rain, as if even God was crying. It was something hidden in the dark, a suffocating tension. Like the calm before a storm, the air was so stuffy that it was hard to breathe, indicating that what was coming was not an ordinary rainstorm but a cataclysmic tempest.
She took a deep breath, trying to dispel the unease in her heart. A faint smell of the sea wafted in the air, the breath of the Rockefeller family's shipping empire and also a smell that Olivia used to be familiar with. The plan had come this far, and she had no way back. Olivia's death, the hardships in the slums, and countless people struggling in the shadows would all be settled tonight, either finding justice or falling into even deeper despair.
"Miss Irene, you're back," the voice of the butler, Arthur, broke the silence. He stood inside the iron gate, his body as straight as a rod that would never bend. He always looked meticulous. There wasn't a single wrinkle on his dark gray uniform, and there was always an almost numb calm on his face. It was as if everything in this manor had to be under his control, and the slightest deviation would make him feel uneasy.
Irene nodded without speaking. She could feel Arthur's scrutinizing gaze on her, as if he wanted to see through her delicate makeup and uncover her hidden identity. She knew that Arthur was full of doubts about her identity, but he stuck to his duty as a butler and had never directly questioned her. Perhaps, he was also waiting for something, or afraid of something, or... he already knew the truth and was just waiting for the right moment.
Entering the manor, the luxury still stung Irene's eyes. The towering marble columns, the exquisite oil paintings, the expensive carpets, and the dazzling crystal chandeliers, every item represented the wealth and power of the Rockefeller family. This wealth was built on the sweat and blood of countless people, on the desperate faces in the slums. And all this originally belonged to her sister, Olivia. Now, in this way, it had become a tool for her revenge.
Sean Rockefeller was in the study. He had his back to the door and stood in front of the huge floor-to-ceiling window. Outside the window, the fog was even thicker, almost engulfing the entire city. His figure was wrapped in the thick fog, looking extremely lonely and desolate, completely different from the violent and cold shipping magnate during the day.
"You're back," his voice was low and hoarse, tinged with a hint of weariness, as if he had gone through a long battle. "Tonight, the Rockefeller family is having an important dinner party, and my father hopes you'll attend."
Irene walked up to him. From the reflection in the floor-to-ceiling window, she saw the bloodshot eyes and exhaustion in Sean's eyes. His handsome face looked pale and tired, with a faint bluish-black under his eyes, as if he hadn't had a good rest for a long time. Even though she had taken on Olivia's identity, she couldn't deny that Sean's pain was real. The vulnerability and loneliness in him occasionally made the flames of her revenge in her heart waver a little.
"A dinner party?" she retorted, deliberately emphasizing her tone. "I remember Olivia didn't like attending these boring social events."
Sean turned around and stared at her with sharp eyes, as if he wanted to see through her disguise and reach the depths of her soul. "Olivia is dead," he said, his tone terrifyingly calm, as if stating an unimportant fact. "You are my fiancée now, the future mistress of the Rockefeller family. You need to get used to these things. This is your responsibility."
"Get used to it?" Irene sneered. Under her delicate makeup, the corners of her mouth showed a hint of mockery. "Get used to the lies? Get used to being used by you?"
"Used?" A trace of hurt flashed in Sean's eyes. He grabbed Irene's arm, his grip astonishingly strong, as if he wanted to crush her. "Do you think I'm willing to accept an impostor? Do you think I don't know you're not Olivia? I just... I just need a wife, a tool to help me consolidate my family's position! A... a front to keep the Rockefeller family running!"
His words were like a sharp knife, stabbing deeply into Irene's heart. So, all her disguises, all her efforts, and all her sacrifices were just a deal in his eyes, a tool for him to maintain his family's interests.
Breaking free from Sean's grasp, Irene turned to leave. "I will attend the dinner party," she said, her voice cold and firm, without a trace of warmth. "I will fulfill my duty as a 'tool'. I will satisfy your father, and I will make it seem that everything is normal with the Rockefeller family's business. But Sean, you'd better remember that a tool also has its value. When it's no longer useful, it will be discarded without hesitation. And I won't allow myself to be discarded."
Back in her room, Irene walked to the dressing table and looked at herself in the mirror. Her delicate makeup couldn't hide the tiredness and pain in her eyes. She knew that tonight's dinner party would be a dangerous feast like Hongmen Banquet. Everyone in the Rockefeller family wore a mask, and everyone had their own calculations, and she was right in the center of the storm.
She needed to find Carl Howard. She needed to know what he was planning. She didn't believe that Carl's approach to her was just out of sympathy. He was too mysterious. There was always an elusive depth in his eyes, as if he knew everything, including her hidden secrets.
At the thought of Carl, Irene's heart involuntarily quickened a little. That mysterious and dangerous gallery owner, what secrets were hidden behind his gentle smile? He was like an elegant cheetah, always ready to pounce on his prey. She still couldn't forget how he had recognized the birthmark on her wrist at a glance in the gallery, that blood-red iris that only appeared in her midnight nightmares. He knew too much, which made her feel afraid and also vaguely expectant.
She picked up the phone and dialed Carl's number. The phone rang for a long time before it was answered. There was the melodious sound of a piano in the background, with a hint of faint sadness.
"Irene," Carl's voice was low and magnetic, with a playful smile. "I've been waiting for you. I knew you would definitely need my help."
"Carl," Irene's voice trembled a little. She tried to control her emotions. "Tonight's dinner party... the Rockefeller family... I need your help."
"I'll be there," Carl said softly. His voice was as gentle as a lover's whisper. "I'll protect you. But Irene, remember, once this game starts, there's no turning back. You've embarked on the path of revenge, and you have to see it through to the end. And I will accompany you all the way to the end."
Putting down the phone, Irene's heart became even heavier. She knew Carl was telling the truth. This revenge had dragged her into a bloody whirlpool, and she could only move forward until the storm fully arrived and destroyed everything. She looked out the window. The thick fog seemed to be even denser, like a huge net enveloping the entire city.
Tonight, it was destined to be a sleepless night. The storm was about to arrive.