Chapter 3

The next day, Heather sent someone to deliver an antique pocket watch. It was from the same brand and the same year, and the auction price was seven digits.

Her assistant placed the velvet box in front of me. "Ms. Hilmann canceled two meetings in the morning to find it. She also said Mr. Sherr is sorry and hopes you stop blaming him."

I did not open the box.

She never skimped on compensation, but she never faced why I was distressed.

In the afternoon, I rushed to the exhibition hall with the entries required by the college.

They would affect the final scholarship, and they were also the handover I needed to complete before I left.

As soon as the car left the city, Heather’s phone call came in. "Are you out?"

"Yes, I am submitting my artwork for review."

There was a two‑second silence on the other end of the phone.

"What time do you finish? I will come pick you up."

I held my phone and did not answer at once.

Last night, she left with Liam without hesitation, but today she remembered my review.

"4 p.m."

Heather’s tone softened. "Okay, do not wander off afterward. I ordered your favorite cake. Liam also wants to apologize to you in person."

Even knowing the pocket watch could not be fixed, she still tried to appease me.

Back then, I would relent if she apologized, but not anymore.

"I have a very important review session. We can talk afterward."

There was a two‑second silence on the other end of the phone. "What time do you finish? I will come pick you up."

That single sentence almost broke me. My long‑dormant heart gave in again.

I was about to speak when the car lurched violently, and a piercing crash sounded from behind.

The driver slammed on the brakes, and the glass case containing my artwork tumbled off its stand.

Ignoring the pain in my forehead, I pushed open the door and rushed to the trunk.

The main structure had broken into three pieces.

I froze and even forgot to breathe.

Two years and over 1,000 sketches were destroyed before my eyes.

The driver’s door of the white car behind me flung open.

Liam ran over, his face ghastly pale. "Ian, I am sorry. Heather said you would not see me, and I was afraid you really did not want to see me anymore, so I followed you in my car."

He reached out to stop me but froze in mid‑air. "My phone fell, so I bent down to pick it up and did not see you slow down..."

I shook him off and took out my phone to call the police.

Liam rushed to stop me. "Do not call the police. My driver’s license will be suspended."

Seeing I did not stop, he turned to grab the broken glass case. "I will make it up to you. I will take it to get repaired right now."

"Do not touch it."

It was too late. The sharp edge of the glass cut his wrist, and blood gushed out at once.

When Heather arrived, she first saw the blood on my forehead. She walked to me quickly and cupped my face in her hands. "Where did you get hit? Do you feel dizzy?"

I looked at her, and my nose stung.

Before I could answer, Liam called out from behind, "Heather..."

Heather turned around. When she saw his bleeding wrist, she took off her coat and pressed it against the wound. "Who told you to touch broken glass?"

"I wanted to fix Ian’s artwork." Liam’s face was pale, and he looked at me with panic. "It is all my fault, but I really did not mean to hit him."

The traffic police walked over and asked if I wanted to pursue the matter.

Heather pressed Liam’s wound and replied at once, "It is a simple rear‑end collision. We will settle it privately."

I looked up sharply. "I refuse."

"Liam is injured."

"My artwork is ruined."

"I will hire the best restorer."

"The review is in 40 minutes. No one can fix it."

Heather fell silent.

I picked up the broken artwork and hailed a taxi.

Even if the outcome was predetermined, I did not want to give up on the last attempt.

However, Heather reached out and grabbed the car door. "Even if you rush over, you will not be able to submit a piece of junk."

‘Junk. Why is everything I cherish desperately priced in her eyes?’ I wondered.

I stared at her. "None of your business."

Liam suddenly clutched his chest, bent over, and began to retch.

After hearing his symptoms over the phone, the doctor suspected a concussion from the impact and ordered immediate hospitalization.

Heather helped Liam into the car.

Before getting in, she glanced back at me. "You stay and help with the accident. Once Liam is alright, I will accompany you to explain to the school."

I stood amidst the shattered glass, still holding the broken artwork. "Heather, the school will not wait for me."

She looked at me for two seconds, her lips pressed tightly together. Liam groaned in pain inside the car, and she turned around and closed the door.

Forty minutes later, the school sent a notification: [Late submission of artwork; scholarship eligibility revoked.]

I stared at that single line for a long time. I thought I would break down, but I only stood there quietly.

My heart felt like it was being slowly crushed, the pain fading until only numbness remained.