Volume 1: The Night When the Iris Withered
The maid's figure disappeared at the end of the corridor. Irene took a deep breath, suppressing the nervousness surging in her chest. The Rockefeller Manor, a cage built with lies and wealth, was now also her stage. What she was about to face was not just a dinner, but a meticulously arranged trial.
She stepped out of the room. An ancient and chilly smell filled the air, the unique damp odor of the stone building, mingled with the stench of decaying wood beneath the expensive carpet, making it suffocating. The corridor was long, and on both sides hung oil paintings, each depicting the ancestors of the Rockefeller family. Their solemn expressions and sharp gazes seemed to be scrutinizing everyone who passed by. Irene forced herself to straighten her back and maintain Olivia's usual arrogant demeanor, yet her eyes couldn't help wandering around. She knew that every corner of this manor held secrets, and any of them could be a clue to expose her identity.
As she descended the stairs, Irene carefully controlled her steps. The heavy chandelier swayed overhead, casting dappled light and shadows, as if countless eyes were peeking from the darkness. She noticed that the handrail of the stairs was intricately carved with iris patterns. Each iris was vividly lifelike, yet cold and devoid of any vitality. These irises were Olivia's favorite flowers and also a symbol of her bloody revenge. At this moment, they seemed to be mocking her, and the sharp petals appeared to be tearing through her disguise.
The hall on the first floor was spacious and empty. The marble floor was so polished that it could mirror one's image, reflecting the huge crystal chandelier on the ceiling. Outside the enormous floor-to-ceiling windows was a neatly trimmed garden, now shrouded in the night, looking eerie and terrifying. The roses and Chinese roses in the garden were trimmed in perfect uniformity, taking on a strange and uncanny appearance under the cover of night. This place was more like a museum than a warm home.
Sean Rockefeller was standing beside the fireplace, his back to her, holding a glass of amber liquid in his hand. The fireplace was ablaze with a roaring fire, yet it couldn't dispel the chill in the hall. He was wearing a well-tailored black suit that accentuated his tall and upright figure, making him seem even more aloof and cold. The fabric of the suit glinted with a faint, dark luster in the firelight, just as unfathomable as he was.
Hearing the footsteps, Sean slowly turned around. Those gray-blue eyes were like the glaciers of the Arctic, cold and profound, exuding an intimidating sense of oppression that sent shivers down one's spine. His handsome face had well-defined lines, as if chiseled by a knife, yet it was also etched with weariness and gloom. There was always a hint of faint melancholy between his brows, as if he was burdened with heavy secrets.
"Olivia, you're down." His voice was low and hoarse, with a unique magnetism, yet it carried no discernible emotion, like the emotionless sound emitted by a precise machine.
"Sean." Irene tried her best to make her voice sound calm and confident. She knew that she had to act like the real Olivia to win this game.
He didn't say a word. Instead, he sized her up and down with those cold eyes, as if he wanted to see through her. Irene felt a sense of suffocation. She endured the unease in her heart and met his gaze. She knew that the slightest flaw on her part would expose her identity and completely ruin her revenge plan. Her fingertips turned slightly pale due to nervousness, and she tried her utmost to control her breathing, lest it betray any sign of panic.
The air seemed to freeze, and time dragged on excruciatingly slowly. Irene found it difficult to even breathe. She felt as if she were in a frigid abyss, on the verge of being swallowed up by the darkness at any moment.
Finally, Sean slowly curled the corners of his mouth, revealing a mocking smile. "You look beautiful today, Olivia. It's just that the scent of your perfume seems to have changed."
Irene's heart sank abruptly. She knew that Olivia had always used "Midnight Iris", an expensive perfume, while in a hurry to cover up the smell of the slums, she had chosen a relatively cheap rose fragrance. Her stomach churned, and a strong sense of crisis welled up within her.
"Maybe there's something wrong with my nose." Sean continued, his voice laced with a hint of playfulness. He slowly walked up to Irene, reached out his hand, and gently stroked her cheek.
His fingers were cold and dry, slithering across her face like a snake, sending a creepy chill down her spine. Irene resisted the urge to flinch away and tried her best to remain calm. She could even feel the faint lines on his fingertips, as if they carried some sort of judgment.
"Your skin also seems to be rougher than before." Sean's gaze was fixed firmly on her eyes, as if he wanted to peer into all the secrets hidden in the depths of her soul.
Irene knew that this was the mark left by the slums, which couldn't be covered up even with the most expensive cosmetics. She took a deep breath, forced herself to calm down, and then put on a coquettish smile. She tried her best to imitate Olivia's casual, somewhat silly and sweet smile.
"Maybe it's because I've been too tired recently. After all, preparing for the wedding is also a very tiring thing." She said softly, with a hint of a pouty tone, which was a common trick of Olivia's. She deliberately batted her eyes, hoping that her clumsy acting skills would get her through this.
Sean's gaze flickered slightly. He seemed satisfied with this explanation. He withdrew his hand, turned around, and walked back to the fireplace, picking up the wine glass once again. The firelight illuminated his sharply contoured face, casting two deep shadows under his eyes.
"Dinner is ready. Let's go." He said indifferently, with no emotion discernible in his tone. He drained the wine in the glass in one gulp, as if trying to swallow all his emotions.
Irene followed Sean and entered the dining room. The dining room was just as luxurious and cold in its decor. The long dining table was laden with exquisite tableware, yet it was empty except for the two of them, making the place seem even more desolate. In the center of the table stood a huge silver candelabra, filled with white candles that lit up the entire dining room as brightly as day. However, this white light only served to accentuate the eerie and oppressive atmosphere of the dining room.
During the dinner, Sean rarely spoke. He just ate in silence, occasionally looking up at her with those cold eyes. Irene felt as if she had thorns in her back. She endured the unease in her heart and tried her best to play the role of an elegant young lady, chatting with him in a desultory manner. Every dish that was served, she tasted carefully, trying to remember the flavors that Olivia would have liked.
She talked about the latest fashion trends, the upcoming wedding, and all the topics that Olivia would have been interested in. She was careful to avoid talking about Olivia's past, for she knew nothing about it. She even pretended to be interested in the shipping business and asked some silly questions, hoping to put Sean at ease.
Suddenly, the door of the dining room opened, and a male waiter in a black tailcoat entered. He respectfully walked up to Sean and whispered a few words in his ear.
Sean's brows furrowed slightly, and then he turned his head and looked at Irene. "Carl Howard is here. He said he has something to talk to us about."
Irene's heart skipped a beat. Carl Howard, that mysterious gallery owner, why was he here?
"Let him in." Sean said indifferently, with a barely noticeable trace of disgust in his tone.
The male waiter retreated. Moments later, Carl Howard entered. He was wearing a dark blue velvet suit, his demeanor elegant and composed, with a gentle smile on his face. His deep blue eyes sparkled in the candlelight, as if they could see through people's hearts.
"Sean, Olivia, good evening." He said in his magnetic voice, and then walked over to the dining table and bowed slightly to them.
Irene suppressed the unease in her heart and tried to stay calm. She looked at Carl Howard. Those gentle eyes filled her with an overwhelming sense of fear. She always felt that he could see through her disguise and all her secrets.
Carl's gaze settled on Irene, and his smile became even brighter. "Miss Olivia, you look absolutely stunning tonight. This dress suits you perfectly and brings out your noble temperament."
Irene forced a smile. She didn't know what to say. Carl's compliment made her even more uneasy, as if he was deliberately testing her.
"Mr. Howard, it's quite late. What brings you here?" Sean asked coldly, with a hint of impatience in his tone.
Carl paid no heed to Sean's displeasure. He gracefully walked over to the dining table, pulled out a chair, and sat down.
"I'm here to give Miss Olivia a gift." He said with a smile, and then took out an exquisite box from his pocket.
He opened the box, and inside was a necklace inlaid with blue gemstones. The gemstones sparkled with a captivating luster in the candlelight, just like Olivia's eyes.
"This necklace is the Blue Blood Iris. I hope it will bring Miss Olivia good luck." Carl said gently, and then handed the necklace to Irene.
Irene took the necklace, her hand trembling slightly. The Blue Blood Iris was a symbol of the Rockefeller family and also Olivia's family emblem. What on earth did Carl mean by giving her this necklace?
She looked up at Carl, only to find that his smile had become even more profound. In his eyes, it seemed as if her birthmark, which repeatedly appeared in her midnight nightmares, was reflected - that birthmark in the shape of a blood-colored iris, the deepest secret hidden within her.
After dinner, Sean stood up, walked to the floor-to-ceiling windows, and stared at the night outside.
"Olivia, have you ever thought about what you would do if one day you found out that everything you have is built on lies?" His voice was low and hoarse, as if he was asking her, or perhaps asking himself.
Irene's heart skipped a beat. She knew that Sean must be hinting at something. He might have already started to suspect her identity.
She slowly walked up to Sean, reached out her hand, and gently held his.
"I don't know what you're talking about, Sean. I only know that I love you." When she said this, her heart was filled with conflict. She had approached Sean for the sake of revenge, yet she found that she seemed to be drawn to him. This man, with his cold and violent exterior, hid a heartbreaking vulnerability within.
Sean turned his head and looked into Irene's eyes. His gaze was profound and complex, as if hiding countless secrets.
"Love? Olivia, do you really love me?" He murmured to himself, with a hint of doubt in his tone.
Irene didn't know how to answer. She knew that everything she was saying now was a lie, a lie woven to achieve her goal of revenge.
Sean suddenly laughed, a cold and despairing laugh.
"Perhaps, lies are the only truth we have." He said softly, and then turned and left the room, leaving Irene standing alone in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows, looking at the night outside, her heart filled with confusion and fear.
The bloody dinner party came to an end amidst lies and secrets, and Irene's path of revenge had just begun.