olume 2: The Feast Above the Lies
Irene walked alone through the magnificent yet empty corridors of the Rockefeller Manor, her steps as heavy as if filled with lead. Sean's final look was like a cold dagger, stabbing deeply into her heart. Betrayal? Perhaps. But what she had betrayed was also a broken soul wrapped in plots and lies.
As night fell, the lights of the manor didn't bring her any warmth. Instead, they intensified the coldness in her heart. She didn't return to her room but aimlessly walked towards the back garden. There, a patch of blood-red irises was growing.
These were the beloved flowers of Mrs. Rockefeller, but now they were like an implicit curse, quietly blooming with a bewitching beauty. According to legend, the blooming of each blood-red iris heralded a bloody purge for the Rockefeller family.
Irene slowly approached the flower bed and reached out to gently touch those alluring petals. They were as soft as velvet but carried an unsettling chill. The blood-red iris was a symbol of her plan and also the unerasable hint of blood in the depths of her heart.
She couldn't help but think of Victoria's words - the history of the Rockefeller family was a history of bloody power struggles. And Isabella Rockefeller's death was definitely not an accident.
Suddenly, a voice broke the tranquility of the garden. "Do you like these flowers?"
Irene spun around sharply and saw Carl Howard standing not far away. He still had that gentle and refined demeanor, as if he had been waiting for her there for a long time. In his hand, he held a blood-red iris that hadn't fully bloomed, with a faint purple halo at the edge of the petals.
"Were you following me?" Irene's tone was tinged with a hint of vigilance.
Carl smiled and didn't deny it. "I just wanted to see what choice the fiancée of Rockefeller would make after being abandoned by her fiancé." He casually twirled the flower stem in his hand, but his eyes were firmly fixed on Irene's face.
"I wasn't abandoned," Irene retorted, but her voice sounded somewhat feeble.
"Really?" Carl raised an eyebrow, and a hint of mockery flashed in his eyes. "Then why haven't you gone back to Mr. Rockefeller's side? Instead, you're here alone, admiring these flowers that symbolize death and curse?"
Irene fell silent. She couldn't deny Carl's words, nor could she deny the sense of loss and pain in her heart. Sean's estrangement from her was like a blunt knife, gradually cutting through her hopes bit by bit.
"You don't understand Sean," Irene's voice was a bit hoarse. "He's also a victim."
Upon hearing this, Carl gently shook his head. "Naive thinking. In the Rockefeller family, there are never any real victims. Everyone will stop at nothing for their own interests." He walked closer to Irene and handed her the blood-red iris in his hand. "This is for you. I hope it can make you more sober."
Irene hesitated for a moment but still took the flower. The flower stem had fine fuzz on it, and the texture felt a bit rough.
"What exactly do you want to do?" Irene looked at Carl, her tone carrying a hint of inquiry. "Why are you helping me? What grudge do you have against the Rockefeller family?"
Carl's smile gradually faded, replaced by a deep sense of sorrow. "A grudge? Perhaps. But that's all in the past. Now, I just want to see the downfall of the Rockefeller family." There was a hint of madness in his tone, like a gambler who had staked everything on the line.
Irene's heart raced. She could sense that Carl was hiding great secrets and hatred in his heart. He had approached her not just to use her but also to complete his own revenge plan.
"The Rockefeller family is stronger than you can imagine," Irene reminded him. "What you're doing will only put yourself in danger."
"Danger?" Carl sneered. "I'm already in danger. And now, I just want more people to experience the pain I've endured."
He paused and then continued, "Sean Rockefeller is not as simple as he seems on the surface. He's hiding a lot of secrets and is burdened with heavy shackles. And these will be the key for you to destroy the Rockefeller family."
"What secrets?" Irene pressed.
Carl didn't answer directly but smiled mysteriously. "Remember what I told you last time? There's an even bigger secret hidden in the death of Sean's mother."
Irene's heart jolted. She thought of the diary she had found in the basement of the rose garden and the hints about the truth of Isabella Rockefeller's death in the diary. Could it be that the death of Sean's mother was really related to the Rockefeller family?
"I hope you can help me investigate the death of Sean's mother," Carl continued. "This will be the best way for you to understand the truth about the Rockefeller family."
Irene was silent. She knew this would be an extremely dangerous task, and one false move could lead to her downfall. But she also knew this was her only chance for revenge.
"I'll think about it," Irene finally said.
Carl nodded in satisfaction. "I believe you won't let me down. Remember, Irene, we're allies, and we have a common goal."
After saying that, he turned and left the garden, leaving Irene alone, facing those blood-red irises that were bewitchingly blooming in the night.
She tightly gripped the flower stem in her hand, feeling the fine fuzz on it, as if she were holding a sharp dagger. She knew she had embarked on a path of no return, and she had to be cautious in every step to achieve the final victory in this bloody class game.
Back in her room, Irene didn't rest immediately. Instead, she opened the diary she had brought back from the basement of the rose garden. On the yellowed pages, it recorded Isabella Rockefeller's inner struggles and her fears for the future.
One page had been repeatedly scribbled over, and the handwriting was blurred, but a few words could still be vaguely made out: "Blood-red iris... curse... truth..."
Irene's heart raced. She suddenly realized that the curse of the blood-red iris was not just a legend but also a clue hidden with the dark secrets of the Rockefeller family.
She decided to start with the truth of Isabella Rockefeller's death to uncover the true face of the Rockefeller family.
But where should she begin?
Just then, her gaze fell on the last page of the diary. There, a name was written in blood - "Victoria".
Irene's heart sank. Could it be that Victoria knew the truth about Isabella Rockefeller's death? Or was she the mastermind behind Isabella Rockefeller's death?
A chill shot up from the soles of Irene's feet to the top of her head. She realized that what she was facing was not just a powerful family but also a bloody whirlpool full of plots and betrayals. And she had already been involuntarily drawn into it.