Elena froze. "W-what?"
The call cut off before she could react.
Moments later—BEEP, BEEP-BEEP!
The black Audi that had been idling in the garage honked again.
And then she understood.
Felix scowled. "What the hell are you honking for? There are empty spots everywhere. Are you sick or something?"
But before he finished ranting, Elena's small figure darted past him. She yanked open the passenger door of the Audi and slipped inside without a second thought.
Felix stood there, stunned. "Elena… Elena?!"
The Audi's engine roared to life. With a sharp turn, it sped away, leaving Felix in the dust. By the time he tried to run after it, it was far too late.
Inside the car, Elena didn't dare look at Lucian. She could feel his anger radiating off him like heat, cold and suffocating at once.
She didn't know why he was so furious—why he had appeared here, now.
This morning, he had sent Lucas to warn her not to show up in front of him unless she wanted to ruin his mood. And now, just hours later, he was the one demanding she come back immediately.
But she didn't dare ask. Not when his moods were unpredictable, his thoughts impossible to guess. So she sat stiffly in the passenger seat, hands clasped tight in her lap, eyes lowered, lips sealed.
Her phone rang again.
She didn't even need to look at the screen to know it was Felix. He'd already called several times, and she hadn't answered. Now the phone buzzed over and over, insistent, shrill in the quiet car.
Annoyance burned in her chest, but above that was fear—fear of irritating Lucian further. She reached out to switch the phone off.
"Answer it."
His voice came low and cold, brooking no refusal.
Elena froze, then reluctantly picked up.
"Elena!" Felix's voice exploded through the speaker. "Whose car did you just get into? Who was that man? Are you sleeping with him? Is that the fat, greasy, balding married sugar daddy everyone's been talking about?!"
His accusations rang sharp and vulgar in the silence of the car. Every single word cut through the air like glass.
Elena's blood ran cold. She hung up at once and powered off the phone, hands trembling.
Of course Lucian had heard it all. Loud and clear.
Damn it, Felix. Are you sent here by God himself just to ruin my life?
Her palms slicked with sweat as she gripped the seatbelt, sneaking a glance at the man beside her.
Lucian's eyes were knives. Just one look was enough to make her chest seize up.
She swallowed hard, forcing herself to speak. "Just now—"
"Elena."
Her name cut from his lips like ice, slicing her words in half. His tone was enough to make her voice tremble.
"Y-yes?"
His face was carved in stone, lips pressed into a thin, merciless line. "Do you remember what I told you outside the courthouse?"
Of course she remembered. How could she forget?
The day they registered their marriage, Lucian had abandoned her on the curb and driven away. The only thing he'd left her with was one cold warning:
'I'll give you two days to cut ties with the Cheng family. I don't like my wife's private life to be messy—even if you're only my wife in name.'
"I remember."
"And this is what you call remembering? Letting your ex cling to you in front of me?"
He shot her a look—full of contempt. It pierced her like a blade.
The words I didn't rose to her throat but stuck there, choking her.
She clenched her fingers tighter around the seatbelt. "Yesterday afternoon, I went to the Cheng family estate. Mr. Cheng agreed to host a banquet the day after tomorrow. He'll announce Felix and Sophia's engagement then. By that time, all of Southville will know I have nothing to do with Felix anymore. As for what just happened… I swear it won't happen again."
"Won't happen again?"
Lucian gave a short, cold laugh. A shadow cut deep across his brow. "Remember those words, Elena."
The rest of the drive was silence.
Finally, the Audi rolled to a stop in front of the South Bay villa. Elena climbed out quietly. Lucian restarted the engine.
She hesitated, leaned down by the window, and asked softly, "You're not coming home?"
His gaze lingered on her for a long, heavy moment. It was fathomless—dark as the ocean under a moonless sky.
He said nothing. The car slipped into gear, and within seconds the taillights vanished into the night.
The Cheng family was one of Southville's oldest and most powerful names. Mr. Cheng was a titan in both business and politics. When he issued invitations, no one dared decline.
On the night of the banquet, the family's ancestral estate blazed with light. Red carpet rolled out for hundreds of feet, crystal glasses clinked, laughter and conversation filled the air.
Mr. Cheng himself stood at the gates with his children and grandchildren, personally welcoming every guest of note.
Felix, however, looked listless, his mind elsewhere.
Mrs. Cheng gave him a sharp pinch on the back.
"Mom!" Felix hissed, irritated. "What are you doing?"
"Straighten up!" she snapped, glaring at him. "Do you know what today is? Stop looking like you lost your soul. Make a good impression on your grandfather!"
"Fine, fine, I get it," Felix muttered, still half-hearted.
Then the butler's voice rang out: "Miss Sung has arrived!"
At once, Felix's head shot up, eyes lighting with excitement.
A sleek stretch Bentley pulled up. The chauffeur opened the door carefully, and Elena stepped out in a flowing white silk dress.
Her makeup was flawless, her delicate face glowing under the lights. When she smiled, a small dimple appeared on her left cheek, making her look both refined and disarmingly sweet.
"Grandfather, this is my gift to you."
Elena walked forward gracefully, holding out a scroll. "A painting by Shitao. I hope it brings you joy."
"What? A painting by Shitao?" One of the city officials nearby nearly leapt in surprise, eyes gleaming. "Mr. Cheng, let us take a look!"
Mr. Cheng laughed heartily, motioning for the painting to be unrolled.
Guests crowded close, craning their necks.
On the silk unfurled a breathtaking landscape: jagged cliffs, rushing waterfalls, ancient pines, and winding streams. Two scholars sat in a pavilion, deep in contemplation. The brushwork was bold yet meticulous, vibrant yet restrained.
The city official gasped. "The Sounds of Mountains and Streams?!"
The crowd rippled with astonishment.
"That's one of Shitao's masterpieces! It's been in private hands for decades. I never thought I'd see it with my own eyes!"
"Who exactly is this Miss Sung? To give away something so priceless as a gift, without even blinking?"
Amid the whispers, Sophia stood hidden in the crowd, a mask covering her face. Her hand clenched into a trembling fist at her side.
Her eyes burned holes into Elena, who stood in the spotlight, smiling, radiant.
Jealousy coiled in Sophia's gaze like venom.
Sophia's jealousy was eating her alive.
Just moments ago, when her family arrived, Mr. Cheng had been cold and dismissive, ignoring her father's repeated attempts at small talk. But when Elena appeared, the old man himself walked to the entrance to welcome her, smiling from ear to ear.
Why? Why Elena? That woman wasn't even worth mentioning, yet somehow Mr. Cheng favored her.
And if that wasn't enough, Elena had presented a so-called Shitao landscape painting—a legendary piece, no less. Now all eyes were on her, while Sophia was left standing in the shadows. Even Felix couldn't tear his gaze away from Elena.
That shameless vixen!
"Elena looks gorgeous tonight," Julia suddenly piped up.
Julia was Derek's cousin's daughter—pretty, but young and inconsequential compared to Sophia or Elena. Her father owed everything to Derek, who had given him a meaningless manager position in the family company. Julia's parents were desperate for her to marry into wealth, and thus they clung to Derek at every opportunity, dragging Julia along to galas in hopes she'd catch some rich man's eye.
Julia had become something of Sophia's sidekick, though not entirely by choice.
The moment Julia complimented Elena, Sophia's smile froze. "Pretty?" she asked, her tone sharp as glass.
Julia realized her blunder instantly. She hurried to smooth things over, linking arms with Sophia. "I mean, she looks fine. But next to you, Sophia, she's nothing."
Sophia's lips curved slightly. Julia wasn't much—plain family background, average looks—but at least she knew when to grovel.
"That's better," Sophia said coolly. Then she added, her voice dripping with mock casualness, "Although I wonder… is that painting of hers even real? I hear there are plenty of high-end forgeries these days."
Julia stiffened. The trap was obvious, but before she could inch away, Sophia's grip tightened. "Why don't you go ask her?"
Sophia didn't believe for one second that Elena had managed to get her hands on an authentic Shitao. The mysterious "benefactor" supporting Elena never showed his face or name. Likely, the man was no one significant—certainly not someone with the means to acquire a priceless national treasure.
If anything, the painting was probably a knockoff meant to please a naïve mistress. And Elena, clueless as ever, had presented it publicly.
Sophia's lips twitched with anticipation. She wanted Elena to be humiliated in front of everyone, though she couldn't be the one to say it outright. That was Julia's job.
"Sophia… I'm not sure that's a good idea," Julia whispered, panicked. "Everyone's watching."
"What's wrong? Don't want to?" Sophia's smile was razor-thin. "That's fine. But if you can't even do me this small favor… don't expect me to put in a good word for you next time on set."
Julia paled. She forced a laugh. "No, no. Of course I'll ask. I was curious myself, after all. That painting's worth millions—how could Elena afford it?"
Sophia's eyes glimmered with satisfaction. She waved her hand dismissively. "Go."
Julia pushed her way through the crowd. "Elena!" she called sweetly. "This painting is stunning! But… I don't really understand art. I do have a scroll at home, though—said to be from a late-Qing master. Maybe, after the banquet, you could help me authenticate it?"
Her words rang out, and heads immediately turned. Most of the guests recognized Julia—Derek's niece.
So that's who Elena was, the murmurs began. The Sung family's disgraced daughter. The one Derek never brought to events because of her poor reputation.
If Julia addressed her so casually, then Elena couldn't be anyone extraordinary. Which made the question of the painting all the more suspicious.
Derek himself had only gifted a decorative vase worth a few hundred thousand tonight. But Elena? A priceless Shitao? Impossible.
The whispers grew.
"Could it be a fake?" someone muttered.
"Where would Miss Sung get the money for a real Shitao?"
"Exactly. Even Derek wouldn't be able to buy that."
"Kids these days—always trying to impress elders with flashy tricks. Do they think we're fools?"
Sophia's lips curled in triumph as the tide of suspicion swelled.
Elena, however, remained calm. She let her gaze brush past Julia and land directly on Sophia, catching the gleam of malicious delight in her eyes. Instantly, she understood.
Elena smiled faintly. "Julia, I'm afraid I don't know much about paintings myself. I wouldn't want to mislead you. In fact, now that you mention it, I'm beginning to doubt whether mine is real."
A ripple of surprise went through the crowd.
Then Elena tilted her head toward a distinguished man nearby. "But I've heard Mr. Sinclair is quite the connoisseur. If he doesn't mind, perhaps he could help us examine it properly?"
The city's cultural commissioner, Mr. Sinclair, straightened at once. He had wanted to inspect the scroll from the start, but hadn't dared offend Mr. Cheng by asking. Elena's suggestion was the perfect opening.
"My pleasure!" he said eagerly, already signaling for his staff to fetch magnifiers and ultraviolet lamps from his car.
The courtyard filled with hushed anticipation. Guests craned their necks as Mr. Sinclair leaned over the scroll, studying every inch under bright light. His expression shifted—grave, intense, unreadable.
Minutes ticked by. The suspense was unbearable.
Finally, he straightened, his hands trembling.
Elena's voice was soft, yet steady. "Mr. Sinclair… your verdict?"
The commissioner's eyes shone. He clutched Elena's hand. "It's authentic! A genuine Shanshui Qingyin Tu by Shitao himself! Absolutely flawless—even under magnification, I can't find the slightest imperfection!"
Gasps rippled through the hall.