Chapter 3

Phoebe had just set her suitcase upright when Xena’s guilty voice drifted up from downstairs.

“I damaged the painting. She’s not going to be mad, is she?”

The word painting hit Phoebe like a jolt.

Her eyes widened.

She forgot all about the suitcase and rushed downstairs.

When she reached the bottom of the stairs, she froze.

Broken glass covered the floor beside the living room couch.

In the middle of it all lay the painting, torn cleanly in half.

Phoebe’s heart gave a violent thud.

She rushed over and pushed past both of them.

The moment she saw the two halves of the painting, her breathing slowed.

She crouched down carefully, her hands trembling as she picked them up and held them tightly against her chest.

Then she turned to Xena.

For once, all of Phoebe’s usual calm disappeared.

“What did you do to it? Who told you that you could touch it?”

Xena stiffened at the shout, and tears immediately welled in her eyes.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. The brushwork looked a lot like an artist I know, so I just wanted to get a closer look.”

Phoebe’s eyes turned red.

“That still doesn’t give you the right to touch someone else’s things!”

Zac immediately stepped in front of Xena.

His brows drew together, and his voice turned cold.

“Phoebe, why are you yelling at her? It’s just a painting. Can’t you see that Ms. Tucker’s hand is already hurt?”

Just a painting.

Phoebe stared at him in disbelief.

Her voice came out so quietly it was barely audible.

“Zac, what did you just say?”

She had told him exactly what that painting meant to her.

It was the last painting her mother had left behind.

It was one of the only things Phoebe had left to remember her by.

She had trusted Zac enough to take it out of storage and display it in their living room.

And now he was standing in front of another woman, scolding Phoebe as if she were the one in the wrong.

He knew perfectly well how much that painting meant to her.

A tear slipped down Phoebe’s cheek.

Something inside her finally shattered.

When Zac saw her crying, panic flashed across his face.

His voice softened.

“Honey, that’s not what I meant.”

Before he could finish, Xena suddenly sucked in a sharp breath behind him.

Zac’s attention immediately shifted back to her.

He turned around, frowning with concern.

“Don’t touch the cut. I’m taking you to the hospital.”

Then he bent down and scooped Xena into his arms.

When he reached the door, he stopped and looked back at Phoebe.

His expression was cold.

“It’s just a painting. How can you care more about that than a real person?

“You came running downstairs and didn’t even ask if Ms. Tucker was okay. You just started yelling at her. Phoebe, do you even have a heart?

“Before I get back, you’d better think about what you did and apologize to her.”

With that, he carried Xena out of the house.

The front door shut behind them with a dull thud.

The living room fell silent.

Phoebe stood alone in the middle of the shattered glass.

It felt as if someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over her.

Whatever warmth she still had left inside her was gone.

Who was really the heartless one here?

But it didn’t matter anymore.

She shouldn’t have expected anything from him in the first place.

Phoebe took a deep breath, but even her breathing trembled.

She hugged the painting tighter.

A shard of glass cut into her finger, but she barely seemed to notice.

She carefully lined up the two broken halves, held them against her chest, then went upstairs to get her suitcase.

A few minutes later, she walked out of the house.

By then, the sky had already begun to darken.

The streetlights cast dim pools of yellow light across the yard.

Phoebe stopped halfway down the driveway and turned back to look at the house she had called home for the past three years.

There had been happy memories here.

There had been painful ones too.

But none of them mattered anymore.

In one month, she wouldn’t remember any of that pain.

And she wouldn’t remember the man who had caused it.

Phoebe looked away.

Then she tightened her grip on her suitcase and walked away without looking back.

Phoebe walked along the street with the damaged painting in her arms, hoping to find somewhere that could restore it.

As she rounded a corner, a familiar voice suddenly called out from behind her.

“Phoebe?”

She stopped and turned around.

A tall figure was walking toward her beneath the streetlights. As he stepped out of the shadows, his face gradually came into view.

Phoebe froze.

For a moment, she almost thought she was seeing things.

It was Carl Lucas, her senior and fellow protégé under the same mentor.

Carl stopped in front of her. His gaze moved from her face to the torn painting in her arms, then to the suitcase beside her.

He fell silent for a moment before frowning.

“What are you doing out here? And where are you going with a suitcase?”

Phoebe opened her mouth, but no words came out.

Embarrassed, she lowered her head.

Years ago, she and Carl had both studied under Dr. Zion Zeller, one of the most respected figures in the medical field.

Back then, they had stood side by side as two of his most promising protégés.

Now, their lives couldn’t have been more different.

Phoebe had earned dual degrees from Sterling University in Kingsley City before joining the National Biomedical Research Institute at a remarkably young age.

At the time, the institute was developing a promising new cancer drug, and Phoebe had been one of the first researchers chosen to lead the project.

In just three years, her team had advanced the drug to Phase II clinical trials.

If she had stayed, there was every reason to believe they would eventually succeed.

The identities of everyone working on the project were kept confidential. The public only knew that Dr. Zion Zeller was overseeing the research. No one knew who was actually leading the work behind the scenes.

But Phoebe had given it all up to marry Zac.

She still remembered the day she turned in her resignation.

Zion had slammed the letter onto his desk, his face dark with anger.

“If you’re determined to throw away everything you’ve worked for, then don’t call yourself my student anymore!”

The argument had ended badly.

Phoebe hadn’t gone back since.

Carl studied her for a moment before letting out a quiet sigh.

“You haven’t been happy, have you?”

Phoebe looked up at him, startled.

“When you left, Dr. Zeller never said it, but he took it hard,” Carl continued. “You know how he is. He’s stubborn, obsessed with doing things by the book, and way too proud to admit how he feels.”

Carl paused.

“But he’s missed you all these years.”

Phoebe said nothing.

“He even came to see you once without telling you,” Carl added. “He saw you from a distance and thought you looked happy, so he turned around and left.”

His voice softened.

“He’s not as healthy as he used to be. If you have the chance, you should go see him.”

Phoebe’s eyes immediately filled with tears.

She pressed her lips together and stayed quiet for a long moment before finally speaking.

“Carl, I’m sorry. Please tell Dr. Zeller I’m sorry too.”

Her voice came out hoarse.

“I’m getting a divorce.”

Carl’s expression changed.

“What are you going to do afterward? Are you thinking about coming back?”

Phoebe shook her head.

“Even if Dr. Zeller were willing to take me back, I’ve been out of research for years. I don’t know if I can just pick it up again.”

Carl suddenly caught her by the wrist.

Hope flashed in his eyes.

“You can, if that’s what you want.”

His voice grew more urgent.

“This was your project from the beginning. You were the one who led it.”

He paused before adding, “And honestly, with where things are now, you may be the only one who can get it back on track.”

Phoebe frowned.

“What do you mean?

“What happened to the project?”