I didn't say a word. Just rolled up my sleeves and walked to the workbench.
A Qing dynasty blue-and-white vase rested on the table, its once-flawless surface marred by fractures. Beautiful. Broken. A tragedy in porcelain.
"Jiangcheng Museum sent this over," Joseph Mason said, voice heavy with gravity. "Exhibition opens in a week. Tight deadline, heavy workload." His gaze settled on me. "Bella, you're leading the restoration."
I nodded, pulled on my gloves, picked up the tweezers.
And for the first time in years, something inside me went quiet.
In my previous life, anxiety had been my shadow. My stomach churned daily—*When will Raymond stop loving me? Why does misfortune follow me everywhere? When will this marriage finally shatter?*
Now, my entire world narrowed to a single crack in the glaze.
*So this is what it feels like,* I thought, *to lose yourself in something you love.*
For the next few days, I practically lived in the studio. Late nights bled into early mornings, my vision filled with nothing but the delicate lines of cultural relics.
Old Mason was right—I was made for this.
The work demanded tremendous patience. Meticulous attention to detail. And if there was one thing I didn't lack, it was patience.
Five years of Raymond's scheming had taught me that. Cold glares. Public mockery. I had weathered it all without breaking. Now, channeling that endurance into restoring history became my greatest strength.
On the fourth day, Raymond stormed in.
"Bella."
His voice could have cut glass.
I didn't look up. My focus stayed on the artifact in my hands.
Ignored, he marched over, face carved from ice, and seized my wrist.
"Come home. Now."
"Let go," I said.
"Are you done with this tantrum?" He lowered his voice, the menace rolling off him in waves. "Do you have any idea what the last three days have been like for me? All of Jiangcheng is laughing at me!"
I finally raised my head and met his bloodshot eyes.
"Raymond, I didn't make you a laughingstock."
I yanked my arm free. "You did that yourself. You wanted to play the devoted husband, but you couldn't cut ties with Elisa Long. What—did you play the game too hard and now it's backfiring?"
He choked on his own words. Silence stretched between us like a wire about to snap.
"When have I ever been tangled up with Elisa?" he finally managed. "If you hadn't suddenly disappeared that day, I wouldn't have even known she was back in the country—"
"Raymond."
I cut him off. Voice flat as a blade.
"Do you actually believe the lies coming out of your own mouth?"
I stepped closer. "Need me to remind you where you spent Valentine's Day last year? Or how on my birthday, you claimed you were working overtime while you spent the entire night at Elisa's apartment?"
His expression fractured.
"You... you knew?"
I turned back to the workbench.
"Have you signed the divorce agreement? If you have, we can head to the Civil Affairs Bureau right now."
He stared at me like he was seeing a stranger. The submissive doormat he'd known was gone.
After a long moment, he let out a cold, incredulous laugh.
"You think divorce is that simple?" He sneered. "Don't forget the prenup. You divorce me, you walk away with nothing. Not a single cent."
He stepped closer, looming. "And without my permission, who in Jiangcheng do you think would dare hire you?"
I kept my gaze on the porcelain. Indifferent.
"Believe it or not, with one word from me, Old Mason's studio could shut down tomorrow."
My heart sank.
I had almost forgotten. Raymond wasn't just my husband—he was the power behind Fu Law Firm, with tentacles reaching into every corner of this city. Blacklisting me would be as easy as flipping a switch.
But he had miscalculated one thing: Joseph Mason's background was far more formidable than Raymond imagined. A simple threat wouldn't close these doors.
"So what?" I challenged, pulse quickening despite myself. "What do you want?"
Raymond bent down, lips brushing my ear, voice dropping to a whisper meant only for me.
