His Scandal, My Exit

Prologue On my twenty-fourth birthday, my fiancé, Chase Miller, had a night of rough sex with Chloe Lynn that sent her to the ER with a ruptured ovarian cyst. By morning, news of their affair had blown up all over social media. He figured I’d do what I’d done for the past five years—beg him through tears to come back to me. What he didn’t know was that just yesterday, I found out I wasn't the Mitchell family's biological daughter. Now, the Mitchells wanted me to surrender my inheritance, along with my engagement to Chase, and hand it all over to their real daughter. And finally, I was done with him. Stella's POV I was raised under strict rules from the day I could walk, molded into the perfect Mitchell heiress everyone expected me to be. Chase Miller, on the other hand, was famous for his reckless streak—street racing, bar fights, extreme sports, you name it. Two polar opposites, chained together by a family arrangement. As his fiancée, I set three ground rules for him: no street racing, no getting into brawls, and, above all, no seeing his close "friend," Chloe Lynn . Chase made it his mission to do the exact opposite. If he wasn't street racing on dangerous mountain roads, he was beating someone bloody at a boxing gym. And on my twenty-fourth birthday, news broke across entertainment blogs that he and Chloe had gone too far in bed, landing her in the hospital with a ruptured ovarian cyst. He dragged my dignity straight through the mud. Everyone was waiting to watch the fallout. They figured, knowing my temper, I’d drag the wild playboy home and make him pay for it. Shortly after seeing the headlines, I walked into the VIP hospital room. "Stella, don't be mad," one of Chase's buddies spoke up first, stepping forward with an appeasing grin. "Chase and Chloe really didn't do anything. The tabloids made it all up. Total fake news." "Yeah!" the others chimed in. "A complete misunderstanding! Don't listen to those bloggers—they'll write anything for clicks..." Before the sentence even landed, a sharp scoff came from the hospital bed. Chloe leaned back against her pillows and sneered, "What's the point of lying to her?" The guys shot her frantic glances, signaling her to shut up. Chloe ignored them. She turned her eyes to me, completely unfazed. "Here's what really happened: we were playing truth or dare. The loser had to share a secret nobody knew. I lost. I told them I was still a virgin, but they didn't believe me. They wanted proof." She paused, as casual as if she were talking about the weather. "So I let Chase prove it for me." The air in the room froze instantly. A few of the guys sucked in a sharp breath, too terrified to speak. Chloe smirked and tilted her chin up at me. "I know you're his fiancée, but Chase and I are best friends. Gender doesn't really exist between us. We've always messed around like this. I'm not taking it to heart, so you shouldn't mind either, right?" Every eye snapped to me. My gaze, however, fell on the chair in the center of the room. Chase was slumped back, his long legs crossed, a lazy, mocking smirk playing on his lips. He didn't bother offering an explanation, nor did he look the slightest bit guilty. He acted like none of this was a big deal. His friends exchanged uneasy glances. Who was I? A high-society heiress born and bred in New York, with decorum carved into my bones and pride that mattered more than my life. For me to hear with my own ears that my fiancé had slept with another woman? I was supposed to tear this room apart and burn the hospital down around them. Yet, to everyone's shock, several long moments passed, and I didn't break a single thing. I didn't try to drag him home, either. After a beat of heavy silence, I simply walked over to Chase and held out an open palm. "Chase. Five years ago, I gave you a silver cross. Can I have it back now?" The guys looked at each other in total bewilderment, wondering if I had lost my mind. Instead of screaming or making a scene, I was asking for a cross necklace? Chase froze for a second, his hand unconsciously drifting to the cross resting against his chest. Five years ago, Chase had crashed through a guardrail during a late-night street race. He lay in the ICU for three days and three nights. When he finally opened his eyes, the first person he saw was me. My eyes had been swollen red, and I had lost so much weight. The moment he woke up, my tears spilled over. Back then, with trembling hands, I awkwardly slipped the cross around his neck. "I went to church specifically to get this cross for you. They say it protects you," my voice had been raw and fiercely demanding back then. "So wear it, Chase. From now on, you're not allowed to get hurt again!" Chase had always despised having such a rigid, boring fiancée. He should have ripped it off and thrown it in my face right then and there. Yet, for some reason, he hadn't moved. He had merely chuckled with mock amusement. "You're so bossy. Am I supposed to wear this thing for the rest of my life?" It took me a long time to answer, my voice dropping to a whisper. "You can take it off the day I stop having feelings for you." Now, Chase sneered with his usual cold indifference. "Why do you want it back?" "No reason," I said, my face completely blank. "I just don't want you to have it anymore." Chase stared at me, unblinking. Ever since we were kids, I had always carried myself with that polished, perfect posture. Always reserved, always composed, always boring to him. "Oh, I get it..." A sarcastic sneer tugged at the corner of Chase's mouth. "You spent all these years failing to make me fall for you, so you finally realized clinging to me doesn't work. Trying a new angle now?" My lashes fluttered down. I didn't say a word. Chase took my silence as confirmation. "Fine. You want the cross back? Sure." Chase stood up, towering over me. He pointed to the fruit platter on the nightstand. "Eat that plate of mangoes, and it's yours." A wave of sharp gasps rippled through the room. Chloe couldn't help but frown. "Chase, isn't that crossing the line? Everyone knows Stella is deathly allergic to mangoes." Chase didn't spare Chloe a glance. His eyes remained locked on mine. "If she thinks it's crossing the line, she doesn't have to eat it. I'm not forcing her." The moment his words landed, I reached out and grabbed a slice of mango from the plate. By the first bite, my lips began to swell and redden. By the second bite, a fine, angry rash broke out across my cheeks. By the third bite, my breath hitched in my throat, and dark red blotches spread down my neck. The room fell dead silent. Chase watched me as my fair skin flushed a violent crimson. Breathing became an agonizing struggle, but I didn't stop. One piece. Two pieces. Three pieces... I didn't look up until the platter was completely empty. My eyes were swollen almost shut, my lips were turning a bruised purple, and my voice came out in ragged, broken gasps, draining every ounce of strength left in my body. "I... finished it. Can you... give it to me now?" Chase slammed his fist violently onto the nightstand, letting out a deafening crash. "Take it!" Chase ripped the cross off his neck and hurled it hard against my chest. "Take your damn pendant and get out!" With that, Chase bent down and scooped Chloe into his arms. "I'm moving you to a better room so nobody ruins your mood."Stella's POV Seeing him leave, the others scrambled to follow him out the door. Just as Chase was about to cross the threshold, my knees buckled, and I collapsed heavily onto the floor. Resting in Chase's arms, Chloe glanced back and let out a shriek. "Chase! Stella... she collapsed! Her allergy looks terrible—is she dying?" Chase's steps faltered. He looked back to see me curled up on the hard floor, my body trembling violently, the hives merging into angry red welts across my skin. "Stella!" Chase's expression cracked. Instinctively, he lowered Chloe to the ground and moved toward me. But Chloe suddenly twisted her ankle, falling hard into his chest. Chase caught her instantly, his brow furrowing deep. "What happened?" Chloe winced in pain. "It... it hurts so bad down there. The doctor said I'm not supposed to be out of bed yet." Chase's frown deepened. Leaning against his chest, Chloe looked entirely helpless. "I'm okay... I can handle it. You should go check on Stella. She really looks bad..." "Forget her," Chase snapped, his voice turning cold. "She chose to eat it herself. Even if she drops dead, she brought it on herself. At least then no one will be around to annoy me. Let's get you to a doctor and switch rooms first." With that, Chase scooped Chloe back into his arms and strode away. I lay stranded on the cold tiles. The itching felt like thousands of fire ants tearing through my flesh, and every breath felt like swallowing shards of glass. Using the last dregs of my strength, I turned my head just enough to watch his broad shoulders disappear through the doorway. He walked away without a single hesitation, never once looking back. "Don't worry, Chase..." I murmured silently to myself. "Very soon... I won't annoy you ever again." Because they found out I don't share a drop of blood with the Mitchell family. My mind drifted back to yesterday in the Mitchell study, when my parents, Robert and Evelyn Mitchell, pushed a DNA report across the mahogany desk with grim expressions, shattering the only life I had ever known. "Stella, you aren't our biological daughter. We found our real daughter, and she's coming home next week." "You two were accidentally switched at the hospital when you were born." I sat frozen for a long time before I could force out a whisper: "Then... who am I?" Robert and Evelyn merely shook their heads. They didn't know. Nobody knew who I really was. I had spent twenty-four years being the Mitchell heiress, only to find out I was just a nameless mistake. To show how much they valued their real daughter, Robert and Evelyn demanded that I leave before she arrived, surrendering the engagement with the Miller family back to her. Robert had said, "We know this is a massive blow to you and hard to accept. But Hailey has suffered so much out there all these years. We want to give her the best of everything to make up for what she lost." Evelyn had added, "The arrangement with Chase was made while I was still pregnant. Now that we know you aren't my daughter, that engagement... naturally belongs to our real child." So they wanted me gone, cleanly cutting every tie with Chase. Which made today my very last birthday with the Mitchell family. First thing this morning, I sent Chase countless messages, hoping he would show up. Instead, I got the headline of him and Chloe plastering the tabloids. Was this supposed to be his birthday present to me? I tightened my fingers around the cross, my lips curling into a faint, bitter smile. "At least... I got the cross back." I told him once: the day I stopped loving him was the day he could take it off. The girl arranged to marry Chase wasn't me anymore. And I would never love him again.Stella's POV When my eyes fluttered open, all I saw was a stark white ceiling. I turned my head. The room was dead silent. Robert and Evelyn weren't there, and neither was Chase. There was only a nurse adjusting my IV drip. Seeing me stir, the nurse let out a sigh of relief. "You're finally awake. The mango triggered severe anaphylactic shock. If they hadn't brought you in right when they did, you wouldn't have made it." I parted my dry lips, my throat rasping like sandpaper. "How long was I out?" "Almost two days." I wanted to ask if anyone had stopped by during those two days, but the words died on my tongue. Deep down, I already knew the answer. No one came. Not a single soul. After giving me a few routine instructions, the nurse walked out. Staring blankly at the ceiling tiles, memories came flooding back unbidden. Everyone always called me the textbook model of high-society poise. Only I knew how much suffocation was buried beneath that pristine, polished surface. For as long as I could remember, Robert and Evelyn's expectations were bordering on neurotic. How to walk, how to sit, how to hold a fork—every single movement was bound by rigid metrics. I had to master every piece of etiquette and skill required of an elite debutante. My friends were vetted, my wardrobe was dictated, and running wild with other kids was strictly forbidden. They even corrected the angle of my smile if it was off by a fraction. I was carved like an exquisite porcelain doll, polished until every detail was flawless. Except I had no soul. I had no freedom, no say, and wasn't even permitted to think about what I actually wanted. Until I was sixteen, the day I first met Chase. I had just walked out of the school gates, waiting by the curb for my driver. A low, guttural roar sliced through the afternoon air as a sleek black motorcycle tore down the street, skidding to a halt right in front of me. The rider pulled off his helmet, revealing an impossibly sharp, striking face. Chase tilted his chin at me. "Hey. Which way to the science building?" I pointed down the path. "Over there." "Thanks." His eyes were strikingly bright, his grin dripping with dangerous charm, radiating a wild, untamed energy I had never witnessed in my life. Watching him roar away on his bike, my chest seized with a sudden, violent jolt. I had never encountered anyone like him. He was as free as the wind, as untamed as a wildfire, entirely unbound by the rules that choked me. He possessed everything I could never have in this lifetime. I envied him, and for the very first time, my heart skipped a beat for someone. Only later did I learn his name was Chase Miller, the sole heir to the Miller empire. And when I found out our families had arranged for us to be married, I lay awake for nights on end, practically vibrating with excitement. I scribbled his name in secret across the pages of my diary, daydreaming about how we would live, how we would marry, have kids, and spend the rest of our lives together. I never imagined Chase would despise me. During our first formal meeting, he looked me up and down with open disdain. "So you're the Mitchell heiress? My supposed fiancée?" He recognized me as the girl who gave him directions, but his eyes were flat and dismissive, treating me like an unwanted piece of furniture. He said, "You're just as stiff and boring as the rumors say. Stagnant water. Total drag." He said, "There's no way in hell I'm marrying someone so dull. I don't like you. Got it?" From then on, Chase pulled every stunt imaginable to break the engagement—fighting with his parents, hunger strikes, smashing rooms, even running away from home. None of it worked. Eventually, he gave up trying to break it off. He kept the title of my fiancé, but continually delayed the wedding, going out of his way to humiliate me at every turn. I was reduced to following behind him like an unpaid handler, keeping him in check, holding him back, cleaning up his messes. I genuinely believed that if I just tried hard enough, if I was patient enough, he would eventually see who I really was. He'd realize I wasn't nearly as cold and rigid as I seemed. I had just been kept on such a tight leash by my parents that I was terrified of making a mistake, terrified of stepping out of line. I never anticipated that this time, he would sleep with Chloe and let it blow up in the press just to break me. I knew he was trying to force my hand into calling off the wedding. Except now, there was no need to break it off. My thoughts were abruptly shattered by the buzzing of my phone on the nightstand. I reached over and saw the caller ID. It was Chase's best friend, Nathan. I hesitated for five seconds before answering. "Hello?" "Stella, we've got a problem!" Nathan's voice came in frantic and breathless. "Chase has lost his damn mind! Just to win some stupid prize for Chloe, he signed up to race the Death Run!"Stella's POV I gripped the phone, staying silent for a long moment before letting out a flat, "Oh." Nathan sounded like he couldn't believe his ears. "What do you mean, 'oh'?" "I mean, I heard you," I said evenly. "If that's all, I'm hanging up." "Wait, did you even hear what I just said?" Nathan's voice spiked in disbelief. "I said Chase is doing the Death Run! The Death Run, Stella! That's the exact track where he almost died five years ago!" "And? What does that have to do with me?" Nathan choked on his words. "...What does it have to do with you? Aren't you always terrified of him getting hurt racing? I'm calling so you can haul ass over here, talk some sense into him, and keep him from getting himself killed!" "In all these years, when has he ever listened to me?" I spent years chasing after Chase, years trying to keep him safe, yet I never once made him care about me, never once got him to listen. I was exhausted. Now that I wasn't even his fiancée anymore, what right or reason did I have to step in? I cast my eyes downward. "I'm not stopping him. Whatever he does has nothing to do with me anymore. Moving forward, I'm staying out of his life." Without waiting for Nathan to respond, I ended the call. That night, as I scrolled through my phone, a breaking news alert popped up on my screen: *Chase Miller, Sole Heir to the Miller Fortune, Involved in Horrific Crash on Notorious 'Death Run' Track; Rushed to Emergency Care.* The attached photo showed a crushed guardrail and a sports car twisted into unrecognizable scrap metal. In the past, seeing a headline like that would have made my vision blur with tears, sending me racing to his side, dropping everything just to keep vigil by his bed. This time, I glanced at it for a second and swiped it away. I stayed in the hospital for a few more days, keeping to a quiet routine of eating, sleeping, and taking my meds, completely disconnected from the noise outside. Once the hives and swelling cleared up entirely, I checked myself out. When I arrived back at the villa, I paused by the front door, taking in every corner of the house. Our parents had forced Chase to move in here with me to "build our relationship" before the wedding. Back then, I was thrilled. I spent months designing and decorating the place, agonizing over paint swatches, curtain fabrics, couch layouts, and porcelain vases, desperate to build the warmest home imaginable. Now, none of it belonged to me. The Mitchells' real daughter would be back in a few days. I had to hand everything over. Oddly enough, I didn't feel devastated. Instead, a wave of profound relief washed over me. Maybe it was because I had spent a lifetime suffocating under the Mitchells' endless, rigid expectations. I didn't have to be their flawless heiress anymore. From this point on, I could finally live however I wanted. With that thought, I took a deep breath, walked upstairs, and began packing my bags. I didn't touch the designer jewelry or expensive clothes. I only packed the modest personal items and clothes that truly belonged to me. When my fingers brushed against the worn, leather-bound diary tucked away in the nightstand drawer, they paused. I started this diary when I was sixteen. Page after page, crammed with a single name. I flipped to the first entry: *Met someone completely different today. He moves like nothing can hold him back. I hope that one day, I can live free of rules, just like him.* Page two: *Found out his name is Chase Miller.* Page ten: *I'm engaged to Chase Miller? How is this real? I can't breathe, I'm so happy! God is looking out for me, right? He really is.* Page thirty-three: *Saw him again today. He still ignored me, but I'm not giving up.* The penmanship was neat and precise, every line brimming with a teenage girl's stubborn devotion. As I stood there debating whether to take the journal or burn it, the bedroom door was kicked open with a violent bang. The crash made me jump. I looked up and saw Chase standing in the frame. He was wearing hospital scrubs, his head wrapped in white bandages, his right arm bound in a plaster cast and resting in a sling. His face was ghostly pale and completely drained. In the past, seeing him in this state would have had me running to his side, asking where it hurt and why he wasn't resting in bed. This time, I just paused, then asked calmly, "Why aren't you resting at the hospital? What are you doing back here?" Chase's face was dark as a thundercloud as he glared at me. "I came back to see if you were still breathing." I had no idea why he was lashing out the second he walked through the door. Without getting angry, I answered evenly, "As you can see, I'm doing just fine." Chase let out a harsh, mocking laugh. "So what, are you blind, or are you deaf? Or did your cell service get cut off so you couldn't make a call or send a text?" I furrowed my brow. "What are you trying to say?"Stella's POV Chase glared at me, his eyes dark with fury. "You didn't know I got into a crash and ended up in the hospital?" "I knew," I said, my voice flat. Chase's pupils flared, looking like an animal backed into a corner. "You knew? You knew, and you didn't check on me once? Not a single call, not even a text?" "Isn't that what you always wanted?" I looked at him evenly. "You hate me meddling in your life. From now on, I won't touch a single thing that involves you. I don't care, and I won't bother you. Shouldn't you be thrilled?" This was the freedom he had begged for all these years. He had spent every waking moment trying to shake me off. "Stella, what the hell is this game?" Chase closed the distance between us, his tall frame casting a heavy shadow over me. "Chloe and I blow up the news, and you don't say a word. I nearly die in a crash, and you act like you didn't see it. Now you're claiming you'll never meddle again? You think playing hard to get is going to grab my attention? Let me tell you right now—it won't!" Exhaustion settled heavy in my bones. I was about to tell him he had it all wrong when a soft voice drifted in from the doorway. "Chase." We both turned our heads to see Chloe standing there. Her eyes drifted between the two of us before landing squarely on me. "Stella, if you're angry, take it out on me. Please don't fight with Chase right now—he hasn't recovered from his injuries." As she spoke, Chloe's eyes welled with tears, a stray drop tracing down her cheek in a display of pure guilt and remorse. "Chase's crash is entirely my fault. If I hadn't whined about wanting that stupid prize, he wouldn't have risked his life on the Death Run... Stella, I know you despise me. I know you've always wanted Chase to cut me off. Once you two are married, I'll disappear. I'll stay far away and never show my face near him again. All I ask is that while he's recovering, you treat him a little better. Just show him some care." "What kind of nonsense are you talking?" Chase's expression twisted. He strode over and pulled Chloe tightly against his chest. "Everyone knows how much I hate her, Chloe. You think you need to tell me that? I don't need a damn thing from her. And even if I marry her, I'm never cutting you off." Chase brushed away the tears on Chloe's cheek with his thumb, his tone instantly softening. "Don't cry. You're breaking my heart." Chloe rested against his chest, sniffling softly. "Let's not talk about that right now. What matters is that you go back to the hospital and rest. Come back with me, okay?" Chase frowned. "I'm not setting foot in that hospital again. I hate being cooped up there. The Millers have private doctors anyway—I'll just have them come here. I'm recovering at home." He paused, glancing over at me with a look of pure defiance. "Aren't you supposed to be so generous and above it all now? Fine. Go set up a guest room for Chloe. While I'm recovering, I want her by my side every single day." I gave a simple nod. "All right." I turned and walked downstairs, passing right by them without sparing either of them a glance. It was as if they were made of thin air. That evening, Chloe moved into the villa. I set her up in the most spacious guest room on the second floor and instructed the staff to bring fresh toiletries and clothes. I handled every detail with seamless efficiency, my face showing not a flicker of resentment. Downstairs on the living room sofa, Chase went out of his way to put on a show of intimacy with Chloe right in front of me. At dinner, he ate food she held up to his lips; while watching TV, Chloe rested her head on his shoulder, chatting away as if no one else existed. They wrapped arms around each other's waists, touched each other's hair, and whispered close into each other's ears. Every now and then, Chase would dart a glance in my direction, waiting to catch a reaction. I acted as though I didn't see a thing. I didn't even blink, looking entirely detached, as if they were just two complete strangers passing through. Isn't this what he wanted all along? I wasn't managing him, I wasn't nagging him, and I wasn't clinging to him like glue anymore. Later that night, deep in my sleep, the bedroom door was kicked open once again. Chase stood in the doorway, his eyes dark with venom. "Stella, you finally dropped the act, didn't you? You're resorting to this kind of sick bullshit now?"Stella's POV The violent crash jolted me awake. I sat up in bed, rubbing my temples. "What kind of episode are you having in the middle of the night?" "An episode?" Chase strode in and hurled his phone directly at me. "Look at this yourself! What the hell is this?" I picked up the phone. On the screen was an interrogation video. Several battered men with bruised faces sat with their heads down, confessing that a woman named Stella Mitchell had paid them to kidnap Chloe Lynn . "The kidnappers confessed to everything! They said you hired them to take Chloe so she'd disappear from your sight forever!" Watching the video, I felt nothing but utter confusion. My expression didn't change as I set the phone down. "I didn't do it." Chase's voice sounded like it had been dragged through ice. "They pointed you out by name, and you're still sitting there lying to my face?" I met his glare, completely baffled. "I already told you, your life has nothing to do with me anymore. I haven't cared about a single thing you and Chloe have done lately. Why on earth would I hire someone to kidnap her?" Chase's pupils constricted, the rage on his face flaring hotter. "You don't care? Ha, you put on quite a show! You pretended to act indifferent all this time just so you could plan something this vicious behind my back, didn't you?" I parted my lips. "I didn't—" "Chloe was grabbed when she stepped outside today! Those bastards locked her in an abandoned warehouse for six straight hours! When I found her, she was shaking so hard she still can't close her eyes to sleep!" Chase's expression was furious. "They said you ordered it. You're going downstairs right now and apologizing to her!" "No." "What did you just say?" "I said, I'm not going." I frowned. "Why should I apologize for something I didn't do? If she thinks it was me, call the police and let them investigate." "You refuse to apologize?" Chase narrowed his eyes. "Fine. We don't need to waste time with the cops. All I have to do right now is call our parents over and call off this damn wedding once and for all!" Exhaustion washed over me. "You know damn well this engagement can't be called off." Both our families treated this union as non-negotiable—especially Robert and Evelyn. They would never agree to let it go. It wasn't like Chase hadn't tried to break it before. Had he ever succeeded once? Chase's mouth twisted into a sudden, chilling smirk. "What if I threaten to kill myself?" My heart stuttered. "If I put my life on the line to break it," Chase said, ice lacing every syllable, "do you think my parents, and your parents, will still force it through?" Looking into the sheer desperation in his eyes, an icy chill crept down my spine. To get payback for Chloe, he was actually willing to bet his own life just to threaten me? In the past, whenever Chase was reckless with his safety, I would break down in tears, begging him to stop, practically ready to tear my own heart out just to keep him safe. Now, all I felt was bone-deep exhaustion. A fatigue that seemed to seep straight from my marrow. I didn't care about him anymore. Whatever he threatened me with had lost all its power. Except this engagement didn't belong to me anymore. The Mitchells' real daughter was returning any day now, and this marriage was meant for her. If the arrangement fell apart right now because of me, Robert and Evelyn would pin every bit of the blame on my head. I lowered my gaze, staying silent for a long beat. Finally, I nodded. "Fine. I'm not going to argue with you. I'll apologize to her." Down in the living room, Chloe sat on the couch wrapped in a throw blanket, her face pale, genuinely looking like she had been terrified out of her wits. I walked over and stopped right in front of her. "I'm sorry," I said. "I didn't hire anyone to kidnap you, but Chase insists that I apologize, so here I am." My tone was completely flat, devoid of any warmth or remorse. Chase stood nearby, his brow knotting into a tight scowl. Chloe glanced at me, then up at Chase, before offering a fragile, understanding smile. "It's okay, Stella. I get it. You're Chase's fiancée, after all. Seeing how close he and I are must have hurt. It's completely normal to make a mistake in the heat of the moment. You don't have to deny it—even if you admit it, I won't hold a grudge." I didn't bother defending myself. I was simply too tired. Chloe stood up and moved to Chase's side. "Chase, I'm exhausted. Can you walk me back to my room?" Chase pulled his conflicted gaze away from me, nodded, and reached out to support her. The moment his fingers brushed against her arm, however, Chloe let out a sharp cry of pain. Chase's face instantly shifted. "What's wrong?"