Chapter 2

A heavy silence fell over the room.

Nathan’s expression darkened instantly, and a quiet gasp rippled through the crowd.

Sharon was left speechless, her eyes brimming with tears, looking utterly aggrieved.

In the end, Nathan stepped forward and paid his respects to Lizzie’s father.

He stood before the casket, his back straight, yet for some reason, a tightness crept into his chest.

Lizzie never looked at him again.

After a brief pause, Nathan stepped back.

Turning around, Nathan looked at the slender figure. He hesitated, then finally spoke. “Liz, I’ll stay.”

“Nat…”

Sharon suddenly pressed a hand to her forehead, her body swaying slightly as she murmured, “I feel dizzy… I don’t feel very well…”

The hand clutching his sleeve trembled faintly, as if she could collapse at any moment.

Nathan’s hand hovered midair.

A few seconds later, he still reached out to steady her. “I’ll take her back to the hotel first. As for things here…”

“No need,” Lizzie said lightly. “It’s my father’s funeral. I can handle it myself.”

She lowered her gaze and murmured, “Dad, you don’t have to wait anymore.”

Nathan looked at her back.

In the end, he said nothing, helping Sharon as they left.

Whispers stirred again through the crowd, hushed voices tinged with the thrill of gossip:

“He’s not even trying to hide it…”

“That Miss Johnson really has nerve, stealing someone else’s husband like this. Mrs. Hall is pitiful.”

“Look closely, the two of them even resemble each other a little…”

Lizzie heard every word, yet she gave no response.

She only reached out, tracing the gentle face.

“Dad, I won’t believe him anymore,” Lizzie said softly in her heart.

Someone came over and urged her to rest, but she shook her head. She remained there until the last of the candles burned low, until the mourners gradually drifted away.

Half the lights in the room were switched off, shadows pressing down on her shoulders.

She took out her phone and sent a message to her best friend, Whitney Lane: [Whitney, the divorce lawyer you mentioned before—can you send me her contact?]

[Whitney: Are you sure?]

[Yeah.]

She was getting a divorce.

By the time she took care of everything, it was already past ten at night.

When she returned to the Hall residence, the entire house was dark, silent like an empty shell.

She set her bag down on the console table by the entryway and was about to head into the living room when her phone buzzed.

The screen lit up.

[Are you home? You’ve had a rough few days. Get some rest.]

Lizzie glanced at it.

She turned her phone to silent, placed it face down, and went to bed.

There was no need to wait for his messages anymore, and no need to wait for him to come home.

The next morning, the sky was overcast, the clouds hanging low and heavy.

Lizzie stood before the vanity, staring at her pale reflection in the mirror.

She slowly raised her hand and slipped the diamond ring off her finger.

She took out a jewelry box, placed the ring inside, closed the lid, opened the drawer, and pushed it all the way to the back.

There was nothing left in this marriage worth holding on to.

She changed into a simple gray hoodie and jeans, tied her hair into a low ponytail, grabbed her bag, and headed out.

Northhaven. An old office building.

The elevator creaked with age, the paint on the buttons nearly worn off from years of use.

The hallway walls were plastered with flyers, and a faint, unpleasant smell lingered in the air.

The sign for Wright & Partners hung at the end of the corridor—low-key, but clean.

The receptionist led her into a small meeting room. A pot of freshly brewed tea sat on the table, steam curling softly into the air.

After a while, the door opened, and a woman in her thirties walked in.

She wore a crisp shirt and tailored trousers, her short hair slicked neatly back, her features sharp and composed.

“Miss Lee? I’m Victoria Wright.”

“Miss Wright.” Lizzie stood and extended her hand.

“Have a seat.” Victoria pulled out a chair across from her. “Let me get a quick overview of your situation.”

She flipped open her notebook.

Lizzie took a deep breath and briefly went over the past three years.

When she reached the part about her father’s death, her voice turned hoarse. She paused for a few seconds, steadying her breathing, then continued.

Victoria didn’t interrupt, only taking notes quickly.

When Lizzie finished, the room fell quiet for a moment.

“What do you want out of this marriage?” Victoria looked up.

Lizzie lowered her gaze, her fingers tightening before slowly relaxing. “Freedom.”

After a pause, she added, “And everything I’m entitled to as Mrs. Hall.

“The house, cash, shares—I want all of it.”

As the words left her mouth, even she was surprised.

So, she could say, so plainly, what she wanted.

Victoria looked at her, a flicker of approval in her eyes. “Good.”

She flipped through her notes. “Given your situation, those are all reasonable requests. But there are two issues…”

She paused.

“First, you signed a prenuptial agreement. Under that agreement, you’d be entitled to very little.

“Second, you don’t actually know the full extent of his assets.

“The Hall family’s shareholding structure is complicated, and your husband isn’t the only one involved. We need as clear a picture as possible of the assets under his name.

“On top of that, the Hall family has the resources to maintain a full legal team year-round.”

Victoria spoke plainly. “To be frank, if you file for divorce now without preparation, there’s a good chance you’ll walk away with nothing.”

Lizzie’s nails dug into her palm, but she said nothing in protest.

She knew that was the reality.

“So my advice is to hold steady for now.”

Victoria capped her pen. “Until we have a clear understanding of the assets under your husband’s name, you can’t reveal your intentions.

“If there’s fault on his side in the marriage, that will work in our favor.”

Lizzie’s lashes trembled slightly.

Victoria caught it. “So, there is fault?”

Lizzie’s throat tightened. “Yes.”

“I’m sorry for what you’ve been through.”

She slid a card across the table. “This is our account. Once the initial retainer is paid, we’ll formally begin.

“We’ll start applying to investigate the assets under his name and proceed through the court process,” Victoria said.

“It won’t be quick. You should be prepared for that. If you obtain any evidence of misconduct during this time, send it to me directly.”

Lizzie nodded. “I understand.”

She stood and gave a slight nod. “Then, I’ll leave it to you.”

By the time she stepped out of the firm, a light drizzle had begun. The rain in Northhaven always carried a faint, damp, timeworn smell.

Lizzie stood under the awning, took out her phone, and opened a conversation she hadn’t touched in a long time.

[Mr. Powell, I’d like to come back to the studio.]

The moment she sent the message, her heart began to race for no clear reason.

She had trained under Heath Powell for nearly twenty years.

She was his most valued final apprentice.

Her skill in restoring antique paintings was masterful, and her own work was nothing short of remarkable.

Later, she married, busy taking care of Nathan and maintaining the Hall household, growing more and more distant from her mentor and fellow apprentices.

Aside from the occasional holiday greeting, there had been no real contact.

She hadn’t expected a reply. Yet less than ten minutes later, her phone buzzed.

[Heath: Come back anytime. Same place.]

It was a simple message.

Lizzie stood beneath the awning, her eyes stinging slightly.

She looked up at the gray, washed-out sky and took in a breath of damp air.

[Lizzie: Okay. See you tomorrow.]