Chapter 3

The next day, Xavier had his assistant deliver an antique pocket watch. It was the same brand, from the same year of production, and had sold for seven figures at an auction.

The assistant, David Porter, placed the velvet box in front of me.

"Mr. Hillard canceled two meetings this morning just to find it. He also said Ms. Nielsen already knows she made a mistake. He hopes you'll stop holding it against her."

I didn't open the box.

Xavier was always generous when it came to making amends, yet he always refused to truly understand why I had felt hurt.

That afternoon, I rushed to the exhibition hall with the collection required by the academy for my admission. This collection was tied to my final scholarship evaluation, and it was also the last handover I had to complete before leaving.

The car had just left home when Xavier's call came through.

"You went out?" he asked.

"Yeah. I'm delivering my work for the evaluation."

The line went quiet for a moment.

"What time will you be finished? I'll come pick you up," Xavier offered.

I held my phone in my hand, not answering right away.

Last night, when he carried Jessica out, he never once looked back. Yet that day, he still remembered I had an evaluation.

"Four in the afternoon," I replied.

"Alright." Xavier's voice softened a little. "Don't wander off after you're done. I ordered the cake you like, and Jessica wants to apologize to you in person too."

He knew that the watch couldn't be repaired, yet he was still trying to coax me into feeling better.

In the past, as long as he was willing to lower his head, I would cave in immediately. But this time, I wouldn't.

"It's an important evaluation. We'll talk after it's over," I said.

He paused briefly before asking again, "What time does it end? I'll come pick you up."

That sentence nearly broke down all my defenses. My heart, which had been numb for so long, softened again despite itself.

But just as I was about to speak, the car suddenly jolted violently, and a sharp crash came from behind. The driver slammed on the brakes, causing the glass case holding my collection to topple from its mounting rack.

Ignoring the pain from where I had bumped my forehead, I pushed open the door and rushed to the trunk.

The main structure had already snapped into three sections.

I stood frozen in place, even forgetting to breathe. Two years of work and more than a thousand sketches—everything had been destroyed right before my eyes.

The driver's door of the white car behind me was pushed open.

Jessica ran over, her face ashen. "Wen, I'm sorry! Xavier said you wouldn't see me. I was terrified you were really abandoning me, so I followed your car."

She grabbed my hand, trembling all over as tears streamed down her face. "I dropped my phone just now, so I bent down to pick it up. I didn't notice you slowing down…"

I shook her off and pulled out my phone to call the police.

Jessica scrambled to stop me. "You can't call the police! My driver's license will get revoked!"

Seeing that I wasn't stopping, she turned around and grabbed the broken glass case.

"I'll compensate you for it. I'll take it to be repaired right now!"

"Don't touch it!" I yelled.

But it was already too late. The sharp broken edge sliced her wrist open, and blood gushed out in an instant.

When Xavier arrived, the first thing he saw was the blood at my temple. He hurried over, cupped my face in his hands, and asked, "Where did you get hurt? Are you feeling dizzy?"

I looked at him, my nose suddenly stinging.

But before I could answer, Jessica called out from behind, "Xavier…"

Xavier turned to look behind me. Upon noticing that her wrist was drenched in blood, he immediately tore off his jacket and pressed it against the wound.

"Why did you touch broken glass?" he chided.

"I wanted to help fix Wen's piece." Jessica looked at me through her tears. "It's all my fault. But I really didn't hit her on purpose."

The traffic police happened to walk over just then and asked whether we wanted to press charges for the accident.

Xavier kept his hand pressed over Jessica's wound and replied without a shred of hesitation, "It was just a regular rear-end collision. We'll settle it privately."

I jerked my head up. "I disagree."

"Jessica is injured," Xavier argued.

"My work has been destroyed."

"I'll find the best restoration expert."

I scoffed. "The evaluation is in 40 minutes. No one can fix it in time."

Xavier fell silent at that.

I picked up the broken pieces, then hailed a taxi. Even if the outcome was already decided, I didn't want to give up without making one last attempt.

Just as I was about to get in the taxi, Xavier reached out and grabbed the car door. "Even if you rush over there now, you can't submit scraps."

Scraps… Why was it that everything I cherished could be so easily reduced to a price in his eyes?

I glared intently at him. "That's my business."

Suddenly, Jessica clutched her chest and bent over, retching.

After hearing about her symptoms over the phone, the doctor suspected that she had suffered a concussion from the impact and instructed Xavier to take her to the hospital immediately.

Xavier lifted her into the car. Before getting in, he looked back at me and said, "Stay back and handle the aftermath. Once Jessica is alright, I'll go with you to explain things to the academy."

I stood there among the broken glass on the ground, holding my broken work. "Xavier, the academy won't wait for me."

He glanced back at me for a fleeting moment, his lips pressed into a tight line.

But then Jessica's pained groan came from inside the car. In the end, he still chose to turn away and close the door.

40 minutes later, I received a notification from the academy.

"Failure to submit the work on time. Scholarship candidacy revoked."

I stared at the one line of text for a long time. I thought I would cry, but all I did was just stand there quietly.

It felt as though something was slowly crushing my heart. The pain eventually became so overwhelming that the only thing left behind was numbness.