Chapter 3

"Will you be grateful to me?" I couldn't help but laugh. I instinctively carried disdain in my tone as I said, "Lilian, do you really think Ethan is going to marry you? He just sees you as a stepping stone. Once you are useless to him, you'll end up worse than I did."

Lilian's aggrieved expression froze instantly. Panic flashed in her eyes, only to be quickly masked by a stubborn defiance. "Not that. Ethan says he loves me, and he will marry me."

I didn't bother arguing further with her.

He was just like me in the past, believing whatever Ethan said. But she never knew that he just lied.

I didn't spare another glance at Lilian and walked towards the car parked by the roadside in my heels.

The rain mingled with tears, cold and unrelenting, sliding down my cheeks.

The driver opened the car door for me. I sat in the back seat and gave an address I hadn't mentioned in ages. "No. 42, West Street, please."

The car left the bustling city center and gradually drove into the old district.

The buildings lining the streets bore the faded charm of the last century. The leaves glistened in the rain.

As I stopped at the familiar street corner, I gazed at the dusty glass door. My heart clenched tightly.

The faded copper letters spelling "Cecelia Gallery" were only a blurred outline now.

It was the only thing my mother, Ellen Wade, left me.

She had been a moderately famous painter. This gallery embodied her life's work and dreams.

When I married Ethan five years ago, I closed the gallery, as I wanted to be the perfect wife. So I tucked the keys deep in a drawer and believed that there would be love and warmth in my future.

Looking back now, I realized that the neglected time was the true treasure.

I pushed open the door. The wind chime gave a hoarse sound. It sounded like the gallery sighed after years of silence.

The air was thick with the scent of dust. Sunlight streamed through the grimy windows and cast mottled shadows on the floor.

The easels on the walls were covered in thick dust. There were Ellen's unfinished paintings in the corner. Their edges had become yellowed and curled.

I crouched down, and my fingertips brushed against one of Ellen's paintings. "Twilight on Sagwaki Rill." The texture of the paint remained vivid, though the canvas was shrouded in dust.

My memories suddenly surged.

On Ellen's deathbed, she had held my hand and said expectantly, "Cecelia, don't neglect these paintings. Don't waste your talent."

At the time, I was immersed in the illusion of love Ethen made. So I just casually responded, "I won't." But I had never taken it to heart.

When I stood in the decaying gallery, I was overwhelmed by guilt.

I had let down Ellen and had lost myself, who had been very influential in the financial industry.

"So I have to change." I whispered to myself, and my voice echoed clearly in the empty gallery.

Ethan's betrayal was like a knife, cruelly slicing through my false happiness. It also revealed what I truly wanted.

Even if I had only six months, I couldn't let Ellen's life's work and my dreams rot in the dust.

I took out my phone and found a number I hadn't contacted in years.

It was Moran Reed, the leader of the team, who had once renovated my apartment.

When the call connected, Moran on the other end sounded surprised. "Mrs. Wood? What can I do for you?"

"Just call me Cecelia." I walked to the window and pushed open the dust-covered panes to let fresh air flood in. "I need your help to renovate a gallery. The address is No. 42 West Street. Can you come here tomorrow morning and take a look?"

Moran didn't hesitate. "No problem."

After hanging up, I took a deep breath. The air seemed to carry the scent of lavender, which was Ellen's favorite.

Next, I dialed Ashlyn Carter's number.

She was my closest friend in the investment industry and the director of a top art auction house.

"Cecelia? You finally remembered me." Ashlyn's voice was as cheerful as ever. "Have you spotted a masterpiece? Do you want me to snag it for you?"

"I need your help, Ashlyn." I leaned against the dusty wall, and my fingers traced its rough surface. "I want to restore Ellen's gallery to its former glory."

There was a brief silence on the other end. Then I heard Ashlyn's excited voice. "Really? Cecelia, you finally thought it through? I knew you wouldn't be content being just a pretty face. But... what made you change your mind? Didn't Ethan have any objections?"

When I heard Ethan's name, I didn't feel pain as sharply as I had when I first learned the news that he betrayed me. I was only indifferent.

I briefly told what had happened to Ashlyn, including Lilian's revelations to Preayork Post, Ethan's infidelity, and the divorce.

"What? That jerk! And Lilian, what a traitor!" Ashlyn cursed furiously over the phone. "Cecelia, you did the right thing. Ethan isn't worth a second of your time. You will definitely succeed and silence those who looked down on you."

Her anger and support were like a warm current, dispelling the chill in my heart. "Thank you, Ashlyn."

"You don't have to say that to me." Ashlyn paused, and her tone suddenly became serious. "Cecelia, have you thought about continuing your career in the investment industry? Do you know how many entrepreneurs are waiting for the renowned investment empress to come back? Even the CEO of Fairydew Fund mentioned you last time."

Could I continue my career?

That idea had been buried deep within the triviality of my marriage.

I looked at the sky outside and found it was slowly clearing. I remembered the doctor said I only have six months left.

My life was short. Why didn't I seize the chance to be bold for the last time?

"Alright." My voice was tinged with a long-lost excitement. "After the gallery is back on track, let's talk about it."

After ending the conversation with Ashlyn, I felt energetic.

Just then, my phone rang again. It was Ethan's assistant, Richard Norris.

I frowned and answered it. I asked coldly, "What is it?"