Joseph Mason was my university advisor and the country's foremost expert in cultural relic restoration.
In my previous life, I had been his prize student. He often said I had a gift—dexterous fingers and a mind as meticulous as a surgeon's.
A natural, he'd called me.
But for Raymond Sanchez, I had thrown it all away.
*"A lawyer's wife doesn't need to work,"* Raymond had said. *"Stay home. Support your husband, raise our future children. That is enough."*
So I had locked myself in a gilded cage, becoming the canary he kept on a shelf.
Now, the canary was snapping the bars.
After hanging up, I let out a long, shaky breath. The engine roared to life, and I drove toward a small apartment I had secretly purchased before the wedding—bought with the inheritance my mother left me. Raymond didn't even know it existed.
In my past life, this apartment had sat empty, gathering dust.
Now, it was my sanctuary. The starting point of everything.
I took a scalding shower, scrubbing the phantom feel of Raymond's touch from my skin until my flesh turned raw, then collapsed onto the bed.
Sleep pulled me under like a black tide. I didn't surface until noon the next day.
When I powered on my phone, notifications flooded the screen. Dozens of missed calls, all from numbers I didn't recognize but knew belonged to Raymond.
And countless texts.
The last one was timestamped 3:00 AM.
*Bella Vance, I'll give you one last chance. Come home now, and I will pretend nothing happened.*
I scoffed and blocked that number too.
Then I opened social media.
Sure enough, the trending topic blazed across my screen:
**#RaymondSanchezWifeMissing #SuspectedAffair #Runaway**
Right below it—a photo of Raymond and Elisa Long, looking frantic as they "searched" for me.
They stood side by side. A talented man and a beautiful woman. The visual match was undeniable.
It stung.
The comment section was a cesspool.
"Now THIS is what a true couple looks like! Perfectly matched in status and looks."
"That homewrecker's daughter better keep running. Just looking at her makes me sick."
"Honestly, Attorney Sanchez should just divorce her and marry Miss Long. That legitimate heiress has way more class than Bella Vance ever will. It's time to put that illegitimate brat in her place!"
No doubt Raymond had paid for these trending spots. He was weaponizing public opinion to crush me, casting me as the villain to make Elisa shine brighter by comparison.
I swiped past the insults, expression stony.
Liked the top post.
And typed a comment:
*Congratulations to Attorney Sanchez for finding his true love. I have already drafted the divorce agreement. Please check your email.*
Send.
I logged out and tossed the phone aside. The explosion I'd just detonated online? Not my problem.
I had more important things to do.
Monday morning, I arrived at Joseph Mason's studio at nine sharp.
A standalone brick building in the old district—a quiet island amidst the city's chaos.
Professor Mason was waiting at the entrance. When he saw me, his eyes lit up, though concern shadowed his smile.
"You've lost weight." His gaze was sharp. "But you have fire in your eyes again."
A lump formed in my throat. Three years. His temples were greyer now, but he looked just as formidable.
"I'm sorry, Professor. Back then, I..."
"We don't talk about the past here." He waved a hand, cutting me off. "Come in. Let me brief you on the project."
A handful of students were already inside—his current disciples. The moment I walked in, the atmosphere shifted. Guarded expressions. Borderline hostile.
I knew what they were thinking.
Three years ago, I had abandoned my studies to marry into wealth. In this circle, that was selling out. Some called me a gold digger; others called me a fool for throwing away my talent for a man.
And now, here I was. Crawling back.
To them, I was a joke.
"This is Bella Vance, your senior," Mason announced. "Starting today, she's part of the team."
A boy with thick-rimmed glasses muttered under his breath—loud enough for everyone to hear.
"A rich young madam who loves to cheat... does she even remember what hard work looks like?"
Professor Mason spun around, glaring at him.
"Bella is not that kind of person. I won't tolerate that gossip in my studio." He paused, gaze sweeping across the group. "Furthermore—Bella's fundamentals are more solid than any of yours."
