Chapter 3

"I don't want any of it. Keep everything."

Liam suddenly tore the divorce papers into pieces. He grabbed my wrist, fury blazing in his eyes.

"Nicely done, Stella. You picked our seventh anniversary to ask me for a divorce, hit our son, and now you don't even want custody anymore, all just so you can leave me?

"Have you forgotten how many years you've been a housewife? If we divorce, who's going to support you? What can you even do?

"Or are you still angry that Mandy and I went to the art exhibition yesterday?

"Wasn't it you who refused to go? You said your hands couldn't even hold a paintbrush steady anymore and that you didn't want to go. So what exactly are you throwing a tantrum over now?"

At twenty-eight years old, the very first note in my phone was about yesterday's exhibition.

Liam rarely invited me anywhere. The future version of me had actually been excited at first, until she found out the person he truly wanted to invite was Mandy. I had only been an afterthought.

That was why she turned him down.

Just as I was about to speak, Liam suddenly let go of me and sighed deeply.

"We've already made enough of a scene today. I doubt you're in the mood to celebrate our anniversary anymore.

"I'm taking our son to tonight's painting appreciation banquet. Stay home, calm down, and stop acting crazy."

With that, he left with our son.

I stood there for a few seconds before anger exploded inside me. I slammed my fist against the wall twice, biting my lip as my eyes reddened.

"Liam, you b*stard!"

The Liam from when I was eighteen, the Liam who stood in front of me yesterday, would never have dared speak harshly to me. Back then, he only ever praised me for having personality. Whenever I got moody, he would grin and call me his little princess.

However, the moment I woke up ten years into the future, I had somehow become a lunatic in his eyes.

And the way he treated the future me was unbearably cold.

In their chat history, there was only message after message from me asking about him, caring about him, trying to talk to him.

For four whole years, he had barely responded.

I still did not understand why I had suddenly traveled ten years into the future, and I understood even less how the confident, radiant girl I used to be had become so pitiful and meek.

But now that I was here, I was going to end this dead marriage with my own hands.

And as for the fire that ruined me back then, I was going to uncover the truth myself and slap every single person who slandered me with the evidence.

Scrolling through the notes on my phone, I found information about the maid who had disappeared after the fire years ago.

The future me had once wanted to clear her own name too, but after marrying Liam, she gradually lost contact with all her old friends. Later, depression consumed her, leaving her without the energy to travel around searching for people or the truth.

But I was different.

At eighteen, the one thing I had in abundance was energy.

I contacted a few friends, and before long we tracked down the maid's whereabouts.

"What a coincidence," my friend said over the phone. "She's working as a nanny at my house now. We're actually hosting a painting banquet tonight too. I'll come pick you up."

Not long later, a luxury car arrived downstairs.

I got into Sam Callahan's car.

Back in university, I had studied painting as well. I worked incredibly hard and had real talent too. I learned a lot, competed in countless contests with my senior, and once had a future full of promise ahead of me.

But after all these years, I had become a housewife.

Meanwhile, Sam had become a respected artist with a well-known name in the art world.

He glanced at me and suddenly smiled.

"Long time no see, Stella. It's been almost six years, hasn't it? I honestly thought you'd never contact me again."

I gave an awkward laugh and apologized softly.

Sam remained as gentle and refined as ever.

"There'll be a lot of people at tonight's painting appreciation event. Want to paint something too?"

I agreed immediately.

"Sure. I'll do one right now."

I grabbed the paper and brush beside me and lowered my head to paint.

Half an hour later, as the drive came to an end, I finally set the brush down and handed the completed painting to him.