Chapter 4

Stella POV

"What are you doing?!"

I rushed in, snatching a stack of manuscripts from a housekeeper's hands. Those were design drawings I'd painstakingly worked on through countless sleepless nights.

The housekeeper looked distressed. "Ms. Stella, these are Mr. Lynwood's orders. He said Ms. Foster likes flowers and wants this conservatory cleared out for her flower arranging studio."

All the blood in my body seemed to drain away at that moment.

Clutching my manuscripts, I stood frozen, watching as the tools that held countless dreams and memories were discarded one by one.

"What's wrong? You're reluctant to part with these things?" Ethan's cold voice came from behind me.

I turned around, my eyes red-rimmed, looking at him. "Ethan, this was your eighteenth birthday gift to me. You said this place would always be mine."

Ethan stood with his hands in his pockets, his gaze as indifferent as if he were looking at a stranger. "Since it was a gift I gave, I naturally have the right to take it back. Your so-called jewelry designs are nothing but a joke. Chloe needs a quiet place for her flower arranging, and this place is perfect for her."

A joke.

Ten years of my passion, my tireless efforts, were, in his eyes, worth less than one of Chloe's flower arrangements.

I took a deep breath, forcing my tears back.

"Fine. I'll clean it out."

I didn't make a scene, nor did I say another word. Ethan frowned, as if he wanted to say something else, but Chloe was already calling him sweetly from a distance. Ethan turned and left, without a single backward glance at me.

That night, I pulled out a large suitcase and began clearing out my belongings.

Clothes, books, daily necessities. I actually didn't own much. Most of it had been bought by Ethan. I neatly arranged all the designer bags and haute couture dresses back in the walk-in closet, not intending to take a single item with me.

I took out an accounting ledger and began to calculate my expenses over the past ten years. Tuition, living expenses, medical bills. Every single one, tallied precisely. A total of 8.7 million.

I only had a little over 2 million in my bank account. I was still short more than 6 million.

From the bottom drawer, I pulled out a velvet box. Inside lay an antique ruby necklace. It was the only relic my mother had left me, and my most cherished possession.

To completely sever all ties with Ethan, I had no other choice.

The next morning, I contacted an auction house and listed the necklace.

Late at night, I lay in bed, tossing and turning, unable to sleep. The master bedroom was right next door. In the dead of night, the intimate sounds coming from there pierced my eardrums like needles.

I pulled the covers over my head, my tears silently soaking the pillow.

The next morning, I went downstairs for breakfast, dark circles under my eyes.

As soon as I reached the dining room, my steps abruptly halted.

By the dining table, Chloe was nestled beside Ethan, playfully leaning on him. And around Chloe's fair neck was the ruby necklace I had just sold yesterday!

"Ethan, I really love this necklace. Thank you." Chloe touched the ruby at her chest, her smile sweet.

Ethan sipped his coffee, his tone indulgent. "As long as you like it."

I stood rooted to the spot, as if plunged into an ice cave.

I walked closer, staring intently at the necklace, my voice trembling. "Ethan, why did you buy this necklace?"

Ethan looked up at me, his eyes showing no hint of guilt, but rather a touch of mockery. "The auction house manager told me you needed money urgently and rushed the listing for this necklace. Since you didn't even want your mother's keepsake, what's wrong with me buying it and giving it to Chloe?"

He knew.

He knew it was my mother's keepsake, he knew how important it was to me, yet he still bought it, then casually gave it to another woman.

"Ethan, you're truly cruel." I gave a bitter laugh, the light in my eyes completely extinguished.

I didn't argue further. I turned and went back to my room. From this moment on, Ethan Lynwood, the person, was dead in my world.

For the next few days, I holed myself up in my room, working day and night.

The submission deadline for The Zenith Design Awards was tonight. It was the most prestigious competition in the country, and winning an award meant my position at the Paris headquarters could be directly promoted from assistant designer to independent designer.

With my still-healing, scalded right hand, enduring piercing pain, I meticulously carved the final wax model.

In the afternoon, I went to the restroom.

When I returned, I saw Chloe standing at my desk.

"What are you doing?!" My heart tightened, and I quickly walked over.

Chloe turned, holding the wax model I had just finished carving. She looked at me, a malicious smile playing on her lips, and then her fingers relaxed.

Clink.

The fragile wax model dropped to the floor, instantly shattering into several pieces.

"Chloe!" I exploded in rage, rushing forward and pushing her away.

Chloe stumbled backward, deliberately falling down the few steps at the study door, letting out a pitiful shriek.

"Chloe!"

Ethan happened to be coming up the stairs. Seeing the scene, his face instantly changed. He rushed over, picked Chloe up, then turned to me, his eyes so fierce they looked like they could devour someone.

"Stella, are you insane?!"

I pointed at the shattered wax model on the floor, trembling all over. "She's the one who threw my competition piece first! Ethan, that was my hard work!"

"A broken wax model, is it more important than Chloe's life?!" Ethan roared, stepping forward and shoving me hard.

I hit the door frame, a sharp pain shooting through my back.

"Since you love throwing fits so much, stay in your room and think about what you've done! No one is to let her out without my permission!"

Ethan picked up Chloe and strode away.

Bang! The door slammed shut, locked from the outside.

I lunged at the door, pounding on it frantically. "Ethan! Let me out! Tonight's the deadline; I have to submit my work! Ethan!"

Silence. Dead silence from outside the door.

I slumped to the floor, staring at the scattered pieces of the wax model, and closed my eyes in despair.