Don’t Fall for the Billionaire Lover

Like an opera, the performance's sound ebbed and flowed, feeling both distant and almost within reach. Chloe felt a spark of curiosity flicker to life. Glancing around, she noticed a bright spot in the neighboring yard. On closer look, it was a stage, with the voice emanating from there. Chloe recalled Connor mentioning that the yard next door belonged to Claire. Over dinner, she'd picked up from Valeria and Madison that Claire was back, though she hadn't shown herself. Madison had also remarked that today was a significant day for Claire January 1st, New Year's Day. But what made it so special?

Intrigued, Chloe listened intently. She could faintly discern that it was still "Farewell My Concubine," and suddenly, her heart tightened. Memories of watching the same play with Claire on Angel Island flooded back, where the actors tragically ended their lives on stage. That scene had left a lasting scar on Chloe's heart.

Claire had that dark side. She'd train actors, using their families as leverage, driving them to enact a real-life "Farewell My Concubine" for her twisted obsession. Chloe often regretted not seeing the signs sooner. Could those two lives have been spared if she had been more perceptive?

The thought of witnessing such a tragedy again was unbearable. Chloe felt a sense of urgency stir within her. Despite Connor's warning against venturing into Claire's yard, she couldn't ignore the potential danger. She had to see for herself.

Climbing down from the treehouse, Chloe had no intention of waltzing in through the front door. She had already scoped out the area from above and mapped out a route in her mind, complete with an escape plan if things went south.

Connor and Claire's yards were divided by a high wall, reminiscent of ancient palace layouts. Chloe spotted a tall sycamore tree in Connor's yard, its branches reaching over to Claire's side. With the agility of a cat, she scaled the tree effortlessly, though the bare winter branches offered little cover.

Leaping down, Chloe quickly found the yard with the stage. It was a quaint space, surrounded by bamboo groves, with rockeries, trees, pavilions, and towers. In the center stood the stage, brightly lit.

On stage was a lone figure, heavily made up, draped in an exquisite princess costume adorned with a delicate phoenix crown. The vibrant colors blazed like fire against the backdrop. Strands of hair clung to her cheeks, wet with sweat. Each gesture was intense, almost theatrical, as if she was pouring her soul into the performance. Her voice soared and dipped, filled with a haunting melancholy, like a cry of defiance against fate, teetering on the brink of love and despair.