Theater: NovelMaster | Language: English
Synopsis
I was the sole heiress to the multi-billion-dollar Sterling Group.
My parents died when I was young, and my grandfather raised me with his own two hands.
When he passed away, my world fell apart.
But what shattered me even more was the reading of his will.
"I bequeath all my estate, assets, and shares to my grandson-in-law, Ryan Vance, trusting he will take good care of my granddaughter, Chloe Sterling."
Faced with such an absurd will, my husband held me close, whispering gently in my ear.
"Grandpa was just worried you couldn't handle the corporate pressure alone. It doesn't mean he didn't love you."
"Besides, we're husband and wife. What's mine is yours."
"If it makes you feel safe, I'll transfer everything back to your name once the probate clears."
I stared at him in silence. Then, standing right in front of my grandfather's memorial casket, I spoke into the microphone.
"I am taking my husband to court."
Over a hundred people attended Grandpa’s memorial service.
I stood at the front in a simple black dress, my eyes red and swollen.
Ryan stayed glued to my side, his arm wrapped around my waist, playing the part of the devoted, grieving husband.
George Miller, the family lawyer, cleared his throat and unfolded the document.
"I, Arthur Sterling, bequeath all assets under my name—including all shares in the Sterling Group, real estate, savings, and investments—to my grandson-in-law, Ryan Vance, as sole executor and beneficiary."
"May Ryan treat my granddaughter, Chloe, with kindness and protect her for the rest of her days."
Listening to the words, cold fury washed over my shock.
Grandpa loved me more than life itself. He would never leave me penniless.
More than that, Grandpa always drilled one thing into me: the Sterling legacy belongs only to a Sterling.
I turned to look at Ryan.
His head was bowed, tears glistening on his lashes, radiating pure, unadulterated grief.
Lawyer Miller folded the paper.
I took a deep breath and broke the silence. "That will is fake."
The funeral hall plunged into dead quiet.
Every pair of eyes snapped to me.
"I am taking my husband, Ryan Vance, to court for forging a will."
Gasps rippled across the room.
Ryan’s head jerked up in sheer disbelief, quickly morphing into deep, wounded helplessness.
He took a step closer, wrapping his arms around my trembling shoulders.
"Chloe is just overwhelmed with grief, everyone. Please forgive her."
"She was closer to Grandpa than anyone. She's just in shock."
I tried to wrench myself free, but his grip only tightened like a vise.
"I am not in shock," I said, glaring straight into his deceitful eyes. "This was never Grandpa's real wish."
"That's enough!"
Uncle Richard stormed out from the crowd, his face flushed crimson, jabbing an accusing finger at my face.
"Your grandfather isn't even cold in the ground, and you're already fighting over money? Do you have no shame?"
Aunt Eleanor chimed in immediately. "Exactly! You took another man's name when you married. What right do you have to question the family will?"
My cousin Brad stood behind his father, sneering loudly.
"Chloe's been spoiled rotten since she was a brat. She only cares about money, not what Grandpa wanted."
One after another.
Blood relatives.
Not a single one stood up for me.
I ground my teeth. "I have every reason to question the authenticity of this document!"
"What reasons?" Richard snapped. "Arthur trusted George Miller his whole life. This will is notarized and sealed! On what grounds are you calling it fake?"
Lawyer Miller pulled an official blue folder from his briefcase, raising it high for the room to witness.
"This is certified by the City Notary Public, complete with Arthur Sterling’s signature, thumbprint, and full video documentation."
"Mrs. Vance, if you have objections, hire an attorney. But do not desecrate this memorial service."
Murmurs spread like wildfire among the guests.
"Has Chloe completely lost her mind?"
"Making a scene at her own grandfather’s funeral over cash?"
"Ryan treats her like a queen. What more does she want?"
Tears spilled down Ryan’s cheeks.
He let go of my shoulder, took a step back, and wept openly before the entire room.
"Chloe, I know how hard it is to lose him."
His voice cracked with sorrow, trembling with every word.
"Grandpa only gave this burden to me because he wanted you to live peacefully. I won't waste a single penny."
"I'll run the company, and every cent will be spent caring for you."
"Whatever you want, I’ll give it to you."
"Please... just stop this, okay?"
He reached out, trying to wipe a tear from my cheek.
I jerked my head away.
That single flinch ignited another round of whispers.
"Ryan is an angel. She doesn't deserve him."
"After everything he said, she’s still throwing a tantrum?"
"She's so ungrateful."
Richard clapped Ryan on the shoulder. "Good man. Having you as our son-in-law is the only blessing in this mess."
Brad sneered at me. "Look at him, then look at yourself."
I stood in the center of the hall, surrounded by dozens of people, completely and utterly alone.
Grandpa's black-and-white portrait hung on the wall, smiling gently down at me.
Looking at his warm face, the chill in my bones suddenly vanished.
I gave Ryan one last icy look, turned around, and walked toward the exit.
"Chloe..." Ryan called out, feigning desperation.
Behind me, Richard barked, "Let her go! She needs to cool her head!"
Aunt Eleanor sighed loudly. "Disgraceful girl. Truly disgraceful."
I walked out into the blinding sunlight, my eyes stinging.
I didn't look back.
I was going to uncover the truth, no matter who stood in my way.Leaving the funeral, I drove straight to the Sterling family estate.
I pushed open the door. Thomas, our old butler, was quietly packing Grandpa’s clothes into a carton.
"Thomas."
His hands froze. Keeping his back to me, he murmured, "Miss Chloe, you're back."
"I need to ask you something. Did Grandpa mention anything to you about a will in his final days?"
Thomas didn't turn around.
He folded a sweater, smoothed it out, and folded it again. Over and over.
"Thomas?"
"Miss Chloe, I don't know anything."
He finally turned, his eyes darting away from mine. "I'm just the butler. I don't poke my nose where it doesn't belong."
"Whatever you know, tell me."
"I swear, I know nothing."
He ducked his head, practically scurrying toward the door. "I have chores to do. You should go home and rest, Miss Chloe."
He bolted out of the room like a hunted man.
Standing alone in Grandpa’s empty bedroom, my fists clenched tight.
Thomas knew something. But he was terrified.
When I returned to the penthouse I shared with Ryan, he was already there.
A bowl of fresh cherries and a bouquet of white roses sat on the coffee table.
Ryan emerged from the kitchen carrying a bowl of hot soup, wearing a tender smile.
"You're back? I made your favorite sweet corn and rib soup. Drink it while it's warm."
I didn't take it.
"Sit down. We need to talk."
Ryan let out a soft sigh, set the bowl down, and sat beside me.
His hand rested on my knee.
"Chloe, I know you had a terrible day. But the will was processed legally by Lawyer Miller. Fighting it will only embarrass you."
"Grandpa wouldn't want to see you like this."
"How would you know what he wanted?"
Ryan looked at me with endless patience. "I was by his bedside until his last breath."
"He told me with his own mouth that he was worried the Sterling Group would crush you. He asked me to take the helm."
"He would never hand the entire empire over to you."
"Chloe..."
Ryan took my hand, his face etched with concern. "Have you been under too much stress lately?"
"I know a great psychiatrist. Let me make an appointment for tomorrow, okay?"
I yanked my hand back. "I am not crazy."
He stared at me for a few beats, then let out a long, weary sigh.
"Fine. If you don't want to go, we won't."
He stood up, looking utterly defeated. "Just stop causing scenes, please? I'm going to bed. The soup is on the counter if you get hungry."
He shook his head and walked into the master bedroom, his silhouette looking like that of a martyr suffering a hysterical wife.
The next morning, Vivian came over.
She brought a bag of fresh fruit and wrapped me in a tight hug the moment she walked in.
"Chloe, are you holding up?"
"I heard what happened yesterday. My heart breaks for you."
She pulled me onto the sofa, her eyes welling with tears, looking even more devastated than me.
"Ryan told me everything."
"Chloe, I know how much you miss Arthur. But the will is done. Don't make things impossible for Ryan."
I studied her face, remembering the eight years of friendship we shared, all the secrets we used to whisper.
"You think I'm just throwing a fit?"
"Of course not!" Vivian corrected quickly, squeezing my arm. "I'm worried about you."
"Think about it. You and Ryan are married. What's his is yours anyway. Why draw such a harsh line?"
As she spoke, her phone lit up on the couch.
A notification banner popped up:
*From: R.*
I couldn't read the full preview, but that initial was unmistakable.
Vivian instantly flipped her phone face-down with a casual smile.
"Spam text. So annoying."
Her expression was flawless.
I pretended not to notice.
"Vivian, do you think I should see a therapist?"
She blinked, then nodded vigorously. "Yes! Absolutely!"
"Ryan told me he reached out to the best clinic in the city. He's doing it out of love, Chloe. Don't push him away."
I gave a faint nod. "Okay. I'll think about it."The moment Vivian left, I looked up the address of the Downtown Notary Public and caught a cab.
The receptionist was a bored twenty-something who barely looked up.
"I want to review the notary file for Arthur Sterling's will."
"Your relation to him?"
"I'm his granddaughter."
"These archives are confidential. You need the principal's consent or a court subpoena."
"The principal passed away."
"Then you can't see it," she said flatly, returning to her phone.
I took a deep breath. "Could you at least tell me which notary officer handled it? I just want to speak with them."
She glanced up, finally recognizing my face.
"Wait... you're Chloe Sterling?"
"Yes. That's me."
Without another word, she picked up her desk phone and dialed an extension.
After a quiet murmur, she hung up. "Wait over there."
I waited for nearly an hour.
The person who walked through the lobby doors wasn't a notary official.
It was Ryan.
Wearing a sharp charcoal overcoat, he walked in with confident strides, his expression dripping with agonized devotion.
"Chloe, what are you doing here?"
He reached for my arm. "I've been looking for you all morning. I was worried sick."
I stepped out of his reach.
Ryan turned to the receptionist with an apologetic smile. "Thank you for calling. My wife has been having some mental health struggles since her grandfather passed."
"If she comes here again to file anything, please notify me immediately."
The girl nodded warmly. "Of course, Mr. Vance."
"Ryan, what the hell are you playing at?"
"Chloe, let's go home."
"I'm not crazy! Stop putting on this sick show!"
My voice rose, catching the attention of everyone in the waiting room.
Ryan let out another one of his signature, long-suffering sighs—the classic posture of a saintly husband enduring a toxic wife.
"I'm so sorry, everyone," he said to the onlookers with an embarrassed smile. "She lost her father young, and now her grandfather... It's just been too much grief for her to process."
People in the lobby nodded sympathetically, casting judgmental glares at me while pitying Ryan.
Two security guards stepped forward.
"Ma'am, you need to lower your voice."
"I'm not causing trouble! I just want to see my grandfather's records!"
"Please step outside, ma'am," the guard insisted, gesturing to the exit.
Ryan spoke softly, "Chloe, let's just go home."
I looked at Ryan. The mask of tender concern on his face was completely airtight.
Without another word, I spun on my heel and walked out.
Behind me, I could hear Ryan politely thanking the security guards.
The biting wind hit my throat the moment I stepped outside.
Standing on the cold concrete steps, watching the endless stream of traffic, I let out a dry laugh.
*Ryan Vance, you really covered all your tracks, didn't you?*
*Too bad for you, I grew up beside Arthur Sterling. I know every corporate trick in the book.*
*The harder you try to paint me as a madwoman, the sharper my mind becomes.*Three days after the funeral, Ryan called a family meeting.
The location was the study in Grandpa's estate.
When I pushed open the double doors, Uncle Richard, Aunt Eleanor, and Brad were already seated around the mahogany table.
Ryan was sitting in Grandpa’s old high-backed leather chair, a thick stack of folders in front of him.
He smiled warmly as I entered. "Chloe, you're here. Have a seat."
I remained standing by the doorway. "What kind of meeting is this?"
Richard tapped the table impatiently. "Ryan is the sole executor of the estate now. He has every right to brief us on how the property will be managed."
"The will is fraudulent," I said flatly.
Eleanor slammed her palm on the table, rattling the porcelain teacups.
"You married out of this family! What right do you have to speak?"
She pointed an acrylic nail at my nose. "You might be born a Sterling, but you belong to your husband's household now. You have zero say in our family affairs!"
"Arthur left everything to Ryan. Swallow your pride and deal with it."
Brad leaned back, cracking sunflower seeds and dropping the shells onto the carpet.
"The notary stamped it, Chloe. Stop embarrassing yourself."
Ignoring them, I stared straight at Ryan.
He flipped through a few pages before looking up.
"I called everyone here today to settle the living arrangements for the estate."
He looked at the others. "Under Grandpa’s will, I hold total disposition over all real estate."
"I’ve decided: the first floor belongs to Richard, the second floor goes to Eleanor, and the third floor is for Brad."
He paused, turning his eyes toward me. "Chloe, you and I will live in our downtown penthouse. There won't be a room reserved for you here."
"Excuse me?" I took a step forward.
Richard snorted. "You don't live here anyway. Why keep a room empty?"
Eleanor chimed in, "Exactly. A married woman trying to hold onto her childhood bedroom? People would laugh at us."
I glared at Ryan. "This is my grandfather's house. You have no right to kick me out."
Ryan sighed softly.
"Chloe, nobody is kicking you out."
"The title of the estate is under my name now. I'm just allocating space logically."
"You're welcome to visit anytime. But maintaining an entire wing for just you doesn't make sense, does it?"
"I don't consent to this."
Richard stood up, sneering. "Ryan is the executor. His word is law."
Brad chuckled. "Know your place, Chloe."
I gritted my teeth, looking at their smug faces one by one.
Richard. Eleanor. Brad. Ryan.
My own blood relatives were bowing down to an outsider just for scraps of meat.
"I'm not moving my things."
That very evening, Ryan brought two private security guards to the penthouse.
They knocked three sharp times on my bedroom door.
"Mrs. Vance, please cooperate and pack your bags."
I opened the door. Ryan stood at the end of the dimly lit hallway.
I locked eyes with him. "Are you really doing this?"
"I didn't want to, Chloe. You forced my hand."
I sucked in a cold breath, turned back into the room, and grabbed a single roller suitcase.
I packed only a few of Grandpa’s old keepsakes and two changes of clothes.
Dragging my suitcase down the grand staircase of the estate, I passed Thomas wiping the coffee table in the foyer.
His head stayed low, his rag scrubbing the exact same spot over and over.
He never once looked up.
I said nothing, pushed the heavy front door open, and walked out into the dark.
I took an Uber to a boutique hotel downtown.
At the front desk, the clerk asked for a card for the deposit.
"Ma'am, this card was declined."
"That's impossible. Try it again."
She swiped it a second time and shook her head. "It's showing as frozen by the primary account holder."
My stomach dropped. I pulled out my backup card.
Declined. Frozen.
I tore through my wallet and finally found an old debit card from my college days with about eight thousand dollars in it—my old savings account.
I handed it over. "Try this one."
It went through.
Once inside the hotel room, I dumped my suitcase on the floor and collapsed onto the edge of the bed, staring at my phone.
A text from Ryan popped up:
*Chloe, why didn't you come to our apartment? Did you check into a hotel?*
I didn't reply.
Another message arrived:
*Don't be mad. I only froze the cards to keep your assets safe. Once you calm down and talk to me, I'll unfreeze everything.*
Silence.
A third text pinged:
*Chloe, please don't make me worry about you.*
I powered off the phone.
Reaching into the bottom of my suitcase, I pulled out an old framed photograph of Grandpa holding me when I was three years old, standing in front of the estate with his eyes crinkling into joyful crescents.
His deep, raspy voice echoed in my head:
*"Chloe, baby, everything I build in this life belongs to you. Nobody will ever take it away."*
Pressing the cold glass against my chest, the tears I held back all day finally spilled over.
I cried in the dark for fifteen minutes. Then, I wiped my face dry.
I powered my phone back on and scrolled down to a dusty contact.
Robert Davis. Grandpa’s oldest friend, and a retired Chief Deputy District Attorney.
I had hesitated to bother him because of his declining health.
But now, I had no other cards to play.
I tapped call.
"Uncle Robert, it's Chloe. I need your help."I didn't dance around the topic; I laid out everything regarding the will.
When I finished, Robert remained silent for an eternity.
"Uncle Robert, you know Grandpa's handwriting better than anyone. Can you testify for me?"
A heavy sigh came through the receiver.
"Chloe... I was there when your grandfather signed that will. I watched him do it with my own eyes."
The room seemed to spin.
"What did you say?"
"Two weeks before he passed, Arthur called me to the house. He said he needed an official witness for a notarized will," Robert said gently. "I stood right there and watched him sign his name and place his thumbprint."
"That's impossible."
"Chloe, I know this is devastating, but it's the truth."
"Stop fighting this, sweetheart. Ryan seems like a decent, capable young man. Just stay by his side and live a peaceful life."
My fingers trembled so hard I could barely hold the phone.
"Uncle Robert... are you telling me you actually read the clause leaving the entire empire to Ryan?"
His voice was firm. "Arthur told me himself. He was terrified you were too young and frail to survive the corporate sharks. He wanted Ryan to hold the reins for you."
I was silent for a long time.
"I understand, Uncle Robert. I'm sorry for bothering you."
If Robert wasn't lying... then he was manipulated.
Or he had been bought out too.
The next morning, I reached out to an investigative reporter at a local newspaper.
I pitched the core of the story. The journalist sounded thrilled on the phone.
"Mrs. Vance, this is explosive! A corporate dynasty will forged from within? We're talking front-page material!"
"Can you publish my story?"
"I'll meet you at your hotel this afternoon. Sit tight!"
I waited all afternoon. He never showed up.
I dialed his number. First call went unanswered.
Second call went straight to voicemail.
I assumed an emergency came up. But by evening, the line just gave me a busy signal.
The next day, I used the hotel room's landline to call his office.
He picked up.
"Dave, this is Chloe Sterling. We had an appointment."
A pause. "Mrs. Vance, I'm sorry. I can't touch this story. Find someone else."
"Why? Did someone get to you?"
"No comment. Please don't call this line again."
*Click.*
A cold sweat broke out across my back. Ryan’s web had already trapped every outlet in the city.
Vivian showed up at my hotel on the fourth day.
Carrying a carton of organic milk and a basket of fruit, she lunged forward and hugged me tightly the moment I opened the door.
"Chloe, look at you! You've lost so much weight... it breaks my heart!"
Her eyes were red, her voice trembling with emotion.
"I'm fine, Vivian."
"How can you say you're fine? Ryan told me you checked into a dingy hotel alone, and I couldn't sleep a wink!"
She set the groceries down. "Have you eaten? Let me order some takeout."
"I already ate."
"You're lying. You're as pale as a ghost."
She pulled me to sit on the bed, holding my hand warmly.
After chatting for a few minutes, she stood up to pour a glass of water from the electric kettle.
"Here, drink some warm water while I tidy up your room."
She placed the glass in my hands.
I glanced down. The water was clear, odorless.
But out of the corner of my eye, I had seen her right hand slip into her jacket pocket just before picking up the glass.
It was a lightning-fast movement. But I caught it.
"Drink it, Chloe. Your lips are completely chapped."
I brought the rim to my mouth, tilted my head, and made a swallowing motion.
In reality, my lips stayed tightly pressed together; the water merely touched my skin and dribbled back into the glass.
Vivian stared at my throat for two seconds, then relaxed into a wide smile.
"Lie down and rest. I'll wash some apples for you."
The second she disappeared into the bathroom, I dumped the entire glass behind the nightstand, letting it soak harmlessly into the carpet.
When Vivian returned with the sliced apples, she sat by the edge of the bed, chatting softly.
"Chloe, are you getting sleepy?"
I was exhausted—not from any drug, but from four days of pure agony and sleepless nights.
I let out a heavy yawn.
"Go ahead and sleep. I'll stay right here with you."
I pulled the duvet over my shoulders and closed my eyes.
Vivian remained perched beside me. I could feel her predatory gaze burning into my face.
Ten minutes passed.
"Chloe? Chloe, are you asleep?" she whispered.
I didn't twitch a muscle.
She waited another two minutes before pulling out her phone.
The room was pin-drop quiet. Every word of her phone call was crystal clear.
"She's out cold. You can come up now."
"Yeah, small dose, but she'll be out for at least four or five hours."
"Same hotel, Room 1208."
"Hurry, I'll be waiting."
She hung up, walked over to the window, and peeked through the blinds.
"Don't hate me, Chloe. A girl's gotta survive."
My eyes snapped open.
Vivian turned around, her smug expression shattering instantly into pure terror.
Without bothering with my shoes, I shoved her backward with all my might and bolted out the door.
I sprinted down twelve flights of stairs and burst onto the freezing street.
Panting violently, I collapsed onto the curb, my bare feet burning against the icy pavement.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. Vivian was calling.
I blocked her number instantly.
Crouched by the roadside, watching headlights flash past in the gray dusk, my entire body shook.
There wasn't a single soul left in this world I could trust.I vanished for three days.
I kept my phone off and cut contact with everyone.
Ryan went to the police.
He stood outside the precinct holding an impromptu press conference, his eyes bloodshot, his voice choked with tears.
"My wife, Chloe Sterling, has been emotionally unstable since her grandfather passed."
"She developed severe paranoia regarding his will. I've been desperately trying to get her psychiatric help."
"Three days ago, she ran away. I've searched every hospital and hotel in the state."
"I'm begging the public: if anyone sees Chloe, please contact me. I just want my wife safe at home."
The video blew up across TikTok and Twitter.
The comments were practically worshipping Ryan as the husband of the century.
*[This chick is totally unhinged. Her husband is literally an angel and she's pulling this crap?]*
*[If she's psychotic, lock her in a psych ward before she hurts someone.]*
*[Her grandfather just died and she's pulling stunts for inheritance clout? Disgusting.]*
My dear relatives rushed to local news channels to add fuel to the fire.
Uncle Richard: "Chloe was spoiled rotten from childhood. No family values, just pure greed."
Aunt Eleanor: "Ryan is such a devoted boy. We, as her elders, are deeply ashamed of Chloe's behavior."
Cousin Brad: "Some people bite the hand that feeds them. Stay strong, brother Ryan!"
The entire internet was tearing me apart.
Not one voice defended me.
Not a single one.
Meanwhile, Ryan's high-priced legal team had finalized every transfer document.
On the twenty-first day after Grandpa’s death, Ryan scheduled the official board meeting to sign over the Sterling Group’s majority shares into his own name.
The venue was the executive boardroom at the Sterling headquarters.
All major institutional shareholders were summoned to witness and ratify the transfer.
I walked through the lobby.
I wore a tailored black pantsuit, my hair pulled back into a sleek, razor-sharp ponytail, my face painted with minimalist, icy makeup.
When the heavy frosted doors of the boardroom swung open, the room froze.
Ryan sat at the head of the long conference table, a custom fountain pen in hand.
Richard sat to his right, Eleanor to his left, and Brad slouched in the corner playing on his phone.
Seven veteran shareholders—men who had built this company from the dirt alongside my grandfather—sat flanking the table.
"Chloe?"
Richard was the first to react, jumping out of his leather chair. "How the hell did security let you in here?"
Ryan set his pen down slowly and stood up.
His face cycled through shock, irritation, and finally landed on that sickeningly familiar look of tender heartbreak.
"Chloe... where have you been? I was so worried about you."
"Worried I hadn't died in a ditch so you could steal my company in peace?"
"How can you say something so cruel?" His voice remained soft, but his eyes turned like flint.
Eleanor slammed her hand on the wood. "Chloe Sterling! Don't you dare cause a scene here!"
"Legitimate business is taking place. You have no legal standing in this boardroom!"
I swept my gaze across the table. "This company was founded by my grandfather. I grew up running through these hallways. And you're telling me I have no standing?"
"You have no inheritance rights," Richard barked, tapping a copy of the will. "The legal documents state that clear as day!"
"That will is a forgery."
"Produce evidence or get out before security drags you out!"
I stared Richard dead in the eye. "You want evidence? Fine. I have it."
The entire boardroom fell dead silent.
Ryan’s brow twitched. "Chloe, please stop embarrassing yourself. Let's go home and—"
"I'm done listening to you lie."
I strode to the head of the conference table, unzipped my tote bag, pulled out a black USB drive, and plugged it directly into the master projector console.
"Chloe, what are you doing?" Ryan’s voice dropped an octave, laced with warning.
"Showing everyone what Arthur Sterling actually had to say."
I hit play.
The giant projector screen flickered to life.
There sat Grandpa in his study, wearing his favorite worn gray cardigan. He looked frail, but his eyes were sharp as a hawk’s.
He stared straight into the camera lens and spoke with slow, deliberate clarity:
"I am Arthur Sterling."
"I am recording this video because I have reason to suspect someone is planning to manipulate my final will."
"After my death, if any document surfaces claiming that I have bequeathed my assets or the Sterling Group to Ryan Vance, it is an absolute and total fabrication."
"My entire estate belongs solely to my granddaughter, Chloe Sterling. No individual shall usurp her birthright."
Chapters (6)
Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Watch & Promotions
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