Chapter 3

"Are you sure, Natasha?" a voice asked me on the other end of the line, filled with shock and pleasant surprise.

I gave a certain answer.

"That's good! I said it before and I'm saying it again—there's always a place for you on the team as long as you're willing to come back!"

I smiled before hanging up.

That was right. I was going back. It was high time for me to return to where I truly belonged.

Not long after hanging up, I received a text message from Levi.

"Viola sprained her ankle. Come to the hospital to see her if you have the time. And make some beef stew for her while you're at it.

"She prefers bland food, so make sure you don't use too much salt. Skim off all the grease and don't add any shallots or scallions either."

So, as it turned out, Levi could have a good memory after all.

In the three years we were married, he'd bought me three birthday cakes, and every one of them contained mango, which I was deathly allergic to.

In the first year, he apologized to me and hugged me, saying that he'd forgotten about it because he was too busy at work, and he told the cook to make a fresh one for me without mangoes at once.

In the second year, he said that he forgot to note down my allergy, so he got the cake shop to make a new one and have it sent to the villa immediately.

In the third year, he asked me what the big deal was, saying that I could have just told his assistant to swap it out for another cake if I couldn't have it.

Now, I finally understood what it all meant.

It wasn't the cake that needed swapping out. I should have swapped him out a long time ago instead.

The next morning, I sent him the divorce agreement that I'd drafted. He called at once, warning me to stop making a scene.

I told him that I wasn't making a scene, and that I'd made this decision of my own accord.

"Your own accord?" he sneered, his tone laced with coldness and mockery. "Have you already forgotten how you let my mother humiliate you in front of the entire family just so that you could beg her to let you marry into the family?"

My pupils contracted.

When I first began dating Levi, his mother, Patricia Walsh, had been entirely against it because she disliked me. She thought that I was far beneath someone of her son's prestige, and ordered me to take photos of the family dog instead, telling me that I was only worthy of being a photographer for their dog.

Back then, I didn't want to make things awkward for Levi, so I agreed and picked up my camera.

However, Levi held my hand and left the Hoffman manor after telling Patricia that I was the person he'd chosen to spend the rest of his life with,

At that time, he'd even told his mother harshly that he wouldn't mind severing ties with her if she continued opposing our relationship, just so that he could be with me. But now, Levi was using the incident to humiliate me instead, accusing me of using whatever means necessary to marry up into his family.

There was a loud, pregnant silence after that. He seemed to have thought of something at that moment and coughed awkwardly.

"Whatever it is, stop being so unreasonable with me."

I let my arms fall to my side in a listless manner. Just as I was trying to come up with another way to convince him otherwise, he spoke again.

"Viola's photography exhibition will be held next week. It's her first time doing something like this, so she's naturally nervous about it. You should come along to put her at ease."

My heart clenched. Just as I was about to refuse, he cut me off.

"You'd better not even think of pulling any of your stunts this time, Natasha Bowen. If you show up, I will consider sitting down with you to discuss our relationship."

He spoke to me condescendingly as though he were bestowing a favor upon me, maintaining that same air of superiority with me as always.

I let out a long sigh. If I wanted to settle things face-to-face with him and make a clean break, I had no choice but to agree to go to the exhibition after all.

However, I never expected Levi to be much more cruel than I ever expected.

The moment I stepped into the exhibition hall, my blood ran cold.

Every single photograph displayed in the hall, every last one of them, was actually my work.

On stage, Viola smiled radiantly as she pointed to a photograph beside her, saying, "This photo is called 'Grasslands in the Morning Light', and it's a very special work that I captured very recently…"

That photo was one I had taken three years ago while risking my life on a battlefield in Fricaland.

I immediately rushed onto the stage, slapped Viola across the face, and demanded, "Who did you just say was the one who took this photo?"