Volume 2: The Feast Above the Lies
Volume Introduction: Irene's position within the Rockefeller family has gradually become more stable, but she has also been drawn deeper and deeper into the family's secrets and conspiracies. Sean's attitude towards her has become increasingly complex, and she is gradually unable to distinguish whether her feelings for him are genuine or false. Meanwhile, Carl always lingers around her, and his appearances are always accompanied by danger and temptation.
The winter wind in the cold winter is like a sharp knife, carrying the fishy and salty water vapor from the bottom of the Thames River and the decaying fallen leaves, slamming fiercely against the towering Gothic walls of the Rockefeller Manor. The icy fog is like an invisible hand, tightly clutching the throat of the city center, making everything feel oppressive and gloomy. Standing in front of the huge floor-to-ceiling windows in the study, Irene looks into the distance at the slums that are completely engulfed by the thick fog. Those low and dilapidated houses are like a pile of matchboxes carelessly stacked together. That used to be her home, but now it seems like another world on the other side of a distant galaxy, a past that she can never return to.
She is wearing the midnight blue velvet dress that Olivia liked the most. The deep blue color is like the Thames River at nightfall, and the hem of the dress trails on the ground like the tide of the dark night, outlining her slender yet resilient figure. She knows that the price of this dress is enough to support a family of four in the slums to live comfortably for a year. On the luxurious ship of the Rockefeller family, which is built with lies and blood, she is like an acrobat walking on a tightrope in the sky, carefully playing the role of Olivia. Every move must be precise, because one wrong step means falling to pieces and plummeting into the abyss.
Since "Olivia" was miraculously rescued from the Thames River and dramatically regained her memory, she has been welcomed into this magnificent yet gloomy and oppressive manor. Everything here makes her feel uncomfortable: those old oil paintings hanging on the walls seem like countless eyes secretly watching her; the footsteps echoing in the corridor always make her feel that there is an invisible hand slowly reaching out to her from behind.
Sean Rockefeller, her nominal fiancé and the heir to the shipping empire, still maintains his distant and violent demeanor. Those gray-blue eyes are always burning with an unquenchable haze and anger, as if they could erupt at any moment. But Irene can sense the vulnerable soul hidden behind his cold mask, a soul that has long been bound by the family, scarred and on the verge of collapse. She often hears his growls coming from the study late at night when he is alone, like a wounded trapped beast, helplessly licking its own wounds. He would face a bottle of Scottish whisky, with a pained expression and despair in his eyes.
What really makes her feel as if there is a thorn in her back and unable to find peace is Carl Howard. That mysterious gallery owner always wears a gentle but meaningful smile, like a cheetah lurking in the dark, appearing in the most unexpected places. His manners are elegant and appropriate, and his conversation is witty and humorous. However, his bottomless blue eyes seem to be able to penetrate her carefully fabricated identity and reach the darkest secrets in the depths of her soul. He knows too much, while she knows nothing about him.
Today, Carl is here again.
He is wearing a well-tailored and soft black cashmere coat. Standing in front of the fireplace in the living room, his slender fingers gracefully hold a crystal wine glass, gently swirling the Burgundy red wine in it. The scarlet liquid shimmers with an eerie light under the illumination of the light, as if he were the true master of this manor. Sean is nowhere to be seen. Perhaps he has locked himself in the study again, struggling with the whisky. There are only the two of them in the entire living room, and the silence is suffocating. The flames burning in the fireplace lick the black coal, crackling, casting Carl's handsome but somewhat sickly pale face in an alternating light and shadow, making him seem even more mysterious.
"Olivia," he says softly, his tone low and magnetic, sliding past her ears like velvet. "How are you getting along recently? Are you used to the life in the Rockefeller Manor?"
Irene suppresses the unease in her heart and tries her best to maintain Olivia's elegant and lazy posture. She slightly raises her chin and wears a somewhat indifferent smile. "Everything is fine, Carl. The life in the Rockefeller Manor is even more... comfortable than I expected. The dinners here are delicious, and the butler is very diligent. Everything satisfies me."
"Comfortable? I thought you would say it's boring." Carl puts down the wine glass, gently places it on the smooth marble of the fireplace mantel, making a slight clinking sound, and then slowly walks up to her. With a scrutinizing look, his deep blue eyes look directly into hers, as if he wants to peel her layers apart and see the truest appearance of her soul. "For a girl like you, who is full of adventurous spirit and has rebellious blood running through her veins, being imprisoned in a golden cage and enjoying false glory and wealth, don't you feel suffocated?"
Irene's heart beats faster instantly. She can feel Carl's gaze like two sharp beams of light, scanning back and forth on her, trying to find the slightest flaw. He knows that she is not the real Olivia, or at least he has already become suspicious and is carefully testing her.
"Maybe," she shrugs casually, feigning ease, and there is a hint of indifference in her tone. "But I know what's best for me. And right now, the best choice is to become Sean Rockefeller's wife. A choice that allows me to possess the wealth and status of the Rockefeller family."
Carl smiles faintly, the corners of his mouth curving into a half-smile. A trace of mockery flashes in his eyes. "You're such an honest girl, Olivia. Or should I call you... Irene?"
Irene's body freezes instantly, like a frozen statue. Her blood seems to have solidified. She tries hard to remain calm and forces a reluctant smile on her face. "What are you talking about, Carl? I don't understand. Are you joking?"
Carl doesn't continue to press the question, nor does he give her a chance to explain. Instead, he takes a step back and leans lazily against the fireplace. He looks at her with great interest, as if admiring a priceless work of art. "Don't be nervous, Irene. Or should I say, Olivia. I have no intention of exposing your secret. In fact, I'm very interested in your plan, and I can even describe it as amazing."
Irene's heart sinks to the bottom, as if falling into a cold abyss. She doesn't understand Carl's purpose. He is like a poisonous snake hidden in the dark, ready to strike a fatal blow at any moment. But what on earth does he want to do? What does he want from her?
"What do you want?" she asks warily, her voice low and hoarse.
"Me?" Carl points to his chest, with a somewhat playful expression. "I just want to help you. After all, we have a common enemy. Don't we?"
"A common enemy?" Irene asks in confusion. "Who?"
Carl's eyes turn cold and sharp, like two unsheathed swords. He slowly says, "The Rockefeller family."
He pauses for a moment, carefully observing every subtle change in Irene's expression, waiting for her reaction, and then continues, "This family is full of lies, conspiracies, and blood, like a huge tumor entrenched in the city center. They destroyed my family and took everything from me. Now, they are also slowly devouring you, making you become like them. You need an ally, Irene. And I am your best choice."
Irene looks at Carl, her heart filled with doubts and vigilance. She knows that cooperating with Carl is undoubtedly a dangerous deal with the devil. He is unfathomable and meticulous. His tenderness and thoughtfulness may just be a trap to lure her to destruction. But she also understands that it's very difficult for her to confront the powerful Rockefeller family on her own. She needs help, and Carl seems to be her only choice.
"I need to think about it." she says calmly, with a hint of hesitation in her voice.
Carl smiles slightly, as if he had expected her answer. His smile is full of confidence and certainty. "Of course, you have the time. You have plenty of time to think about it. But remember, time is running out. The secrets of the Rockefeller family will soon surface, and the outline of the truth will gradually become clear. By then, you will have nowhere to run. You will either become one of them or be completely crushed."
After saying that, Carl turns around gracefully, exuding an elegant and dangerous aura, and leaves the living room, leaving Irene standing alone in front of the fireplace, feeling the flames from hell scorching her soul. She seems to be trapped on a huge chessboard, and she and Carl are just chess pieces, being manipulated by an invisible force towards an unknown ending.
She knows that a dangerous game has already begun. And Carl Howard is her most dangerous ally. Can she escape unscathed from this whirlpool woven with lies? Can she really complete her revenge plan?
The answers are hidden in the unfathomable secrets of the Rockefeller family and also in Carl Howard's deep blue eyes that seem to be able to swallow everything. And she must find them before the truth is revealed.