Emma rushed forward, snatched the painting from Samantha’s hands without a word, and cradled it tightly in her arms.
“Mrs. Grant, why are you taking my painting?”
Samantha jumped from Michael’s lap, her eyes wide and anxious.
“Emma, give it back!”
Michael’s low voice rang out.
But Emma only held the painting tighter.
Her lips were pressed into a thin line, her body trembling as she took step after step backward, shaking her head slowly.
The painting was hers from the beginning—she was only reclaiming what belonged to her.
“Emma, don’t make me repeat myself.”
Michael’s face was cold, his tone laced with anger.
“You knew it was mine, yet you gave it to her,” Emma said through clenched teeth.
“Yours?” Michael scoffed.
“I bought it at the auction as a gift for Samantha. When exactly did it become yours?”
He stood up from the couch as he spoke, eyes dark with rising frustration.
“Give it back to her.”
At his signal, two people stepped forward to restrain Emma while Samantha lunged to take the painting.
But the moment she pulled—it tore. A sharp ripping sound echoed in the room.
The painting split cleanly in two.
Samantha gasped, her eyes turning red with tears.
“Michael, look! The painting you spent fifty million on… She destroyed it!”
Choking back sobs, she tossed the damaged artwork to the ground and flung herself into his arms.
Michael stared at the torn pieces in shock.
He hadn’t imagined it would end like this.
His gaze flicked to Emma, still slumped on the floor, and his brows furrowed with complex emotion.
Emma stared blankly at the shredded painting.
It represented her happiest memory—and now it lay ruined at her feet.
With trembling hands, she picked it up, eyes hollow, then shot a bitter glare at the couple in front of her before turning to head back to her room, shielding the painting with her body.
Just then, Samantha’s curious voice rang out.
“Hmm? What’s this?”
She had picked up a necklace that had fallen during the scuffle.
Emma, who had intended to ignore her, froze.
A chill crept up her spine. She turned around instinctively—and when she saw the necklace in Samantha’s hand, her heart nearly stopped.
It was hers. She must have dropped it earlier in chaos.
Inside the pendant box... were her father’s ashes.
She bolted forward to snatch it back, but Samantha was quicker this time.
“That’s mine!”
Emma shouted, her eyes bloodshot, fury burning behind them.
“This necklace is kind of unique,” Samantha said, turning it over playfully. She brought it to Michael.
“Michael, I like this. Can I have it?”
“Sure.”
Michael glanced at it briefly and agreed without hesitation.
“Michael… what’s wrong with you?”
Emma stared at him, teeth clenched, her voice shaking.
“What gives you the right?”
Michael chuckled coldly.
“You ruined Samantha’s painting. This necklace is your compensation.”
With that, he ignored her entirely and turned to leave with Samantha—only for Emma to lunge at them.
“That’s my necklace! Give it back!”
Like a madwoman, she threw Samantha to the ground, trying desperately to pry the necklace from her hand.
“Emma, what are you doing?!”
Michael yanked her up violently and without warning, slapped her hard across the face.
The sound was loud, shocking everyone in the room into silence.
It was the first time he had ever hit her.
“That’s what you get for bullying Samantha.”
His voice was as cold as ice. He pulled Samantha close again and handed the necklace to her.
“Keep it if you like it. Don’t let her touch it again.”
“Thank you, Michael!”
Samantha stood on tiptoe, kissed him on the lips, then opened the necklace box with a delighted smile.
“What’s inside?”
She stared at the white powder within, her face puzzled.
Emma’s voice cracked: “Don’t touch it… get your filthy hands off my dad!”
She lunged again, reaching for the necklace—but Samantha, startled, threw it away in a panic.
“What did you just say? What’s in here…”
“Don’t—!”
