Chapter 3

"Enough."

Hudson's deep, commanding voice cut through the whispers. He reached into his coat pocket, pulled out his checkbook, scribbled a figure, tore it off, and flicked it at my feet.

"One hundred thousand dollars. That’s probably more than you make in a year. Take it and get out of my sight."

He looked down at me, his eyes entirely devoid of warmth.

"Stop using these pathetic, low-class tricks to get my attention, Michelle. You're just as repulsive as you were five years ago."

Vivian immediately chimed in, her voice dripping with venomous sweetness.

"Hudson, you're always too soft-hearted. If you give her money now, she'll just stalk you with even crazier stunts next time."

She then turned to me, a smug smile playing on her lips. "Just take it, Michelle. Hudson and I are getting engaged soon, and I really don't want your drama stressing him out."

Engaged? I felt a brief flash of surprise. They had been dragging this out for five years, and they still hadn't tied the knot?

I finally looked up from the canvas, glancing at the check lying on the floor, then straight into Hudson's eyes.

"I don't want your money."

My rejection was like a physical slap to his face.

His expression turned instantly venomous. "Don't play hard to get, Michelle. Do you think you're starring in some indie movie about a girl with morals?"

"In my eyes, you are nothing but a clown."

"Back then, you threw a tantrum and left over seventy-seven cents. Now I offer you a hundred grand, and you're acting like you're too good for it?"

As soon as he said that, a wave of suppressed chuckles rippled through the crowd.

"Seventy-seven cents? Mr. Harrington, you've got to be kidding."

"So she's a gold digger who threw a fit over pennies? No wonder she ended up cleaning floors."

Vivian covered her mouth, giggling like a schoolgirl, her eyes flashing with absolute victory.

I ignored the whispers and kept my hands steady.

The ice cream was starting to melt into the delicate paint layers. If I didn't treat it right now, the artificial dyes would permanently bind to the canvas fibers, ruining the piece forever.

Seeing that I was completely ignoring her, Vivian's eyes gleamed with malice. She took a step forward, suddenly "tripped" over her own feet, let out a dramatic gasp, and threw her entire glass of red wine straight at the painting!

"Oh my god!" someone gasped.

The deep red liquid splashed violently across the pristine, snowy-white canvas.

The Departure was instantly ruined.

The gallery manager’s face drained of color. He pointed a shaking finger at me, his voice cracking with sheer panic.

"You! You crazy bitch! Look at what you've done!"

Vivian immediately shrank back behind Hudson, squeezing out a few tears.

"Hudson, I didn't mean to... It was her! She deliberately stuck her foot out and tripped me!"

Every eye in the room shot toward me. Just like that, I was framed as the villain who had destroyed a multi-million-dollar masterpiece.