On our third wedding anniversary, Ethan handed me a divorce agreement, his eyes slightly red as he gripped my hand. "Samantha, I got an invitation to a top New York socialite's banquet. She promised me the vice president position." His voice was gentle yet cruel. "You'll spend your whole life stuck in this run-down gallery, and our children would just be ordinary people. For our next generation's social advancement, I have to choose someone better. You're so kind---you can understand that, right?" I looked at his guilt-ridden, affectionate expression and signed without hesitation. After all, everyone climbs upward. Nothing wrong with that. He just didn't know that the New York socialite he'd worked so hard to please was actually my personal assistant whom I'd hired to test him. And that banquet for elite society's upper crust---it was a welcome party being held for me, the true heiress. "I've signed it, Ethan." I pushed the divorce agreement back across to him. My crisp signature stood out starkly against the white paper. Ethan looked down at my name on the document, his brows furrowing slightly. He clearly hadn't expected me to agree so readily. In his imagination, I should have been crying, making a scene, threatening suicide, clinging desperately to his leg and begging him not to leave. But he quickly adjusted his expression, putting back on that deeply affectionate yet helpless look---as if he were sacrificing himself for the greater good. "Don't blame me, Samantha." He sighed, reaching out to take my hand, his tone dripping with condescending generosity. "I know you're upset, but this is just facing reality. We can't spend our whole lives stuck in this shabby gallery. You're so kind---surely you can understand my difficult position, right?" I leaned back in my chair, avoiding his touch. Ethan's hand froze mid-air, then awkwardly retreated. He straightened the cuffs of his three-hundred-thousand-dollar custom suit. "The resources Winona can give me are things you could never access painting for a lifetime. I'm a man. I need a career. She's already gotten an invitation to tonight's elite New York banquet. After tonight, I'll be vice president of John Corporation." The Winona he mentioned was supposedly a top New York socialite, Winona Lynn. She was also my personal assistant, Nina Lynn, whom I paid fifty thousand dollars a month. Looking at this face I'd once found gentle and refined, I found it utterly ridiculous. "You're right. People should climb upward." I picked up the glass of cold water on the table and took a sip, looking at him calmly. "Since you've found a better ladder, of course I won't stop you." Ethan looked at my expressionless face, irritation flashing in his eyes. He probably thought my composure was an act, a ploy for his sympathy. "You don't have to pretend to be strong in front of me." He pulled a bank card from his briefcase and pushed it toward me, sounding more and more like a charitable benefactor. "There's a hundred thousand dollars on this card. Consider it my compensation to you. The gallery's rent is due next month. Take this money and go back home to find a stable job. Stop suffering here in New York." A hundred thousand dollars. The custom suit he was wearing---I'd had it hand-made in Italy. The Patek Philippe on his wrist---I'd given it to him for his birthday last year. Worth two million dollars. And now he was offering me a hundred thousand to dismiss the wife who'd quietly served him for three years. "No need. Keep your money." I didn't touch the card. "After all, you'll need to break into high society. Everything costs money there. A hundred thousand probably won't even buy a single bottle of wine in their circles." Ethan's expression darkened. "Don't be ungrateful, Samantha." He lowered his voice, finally showing a hint of warning. "Take the money. From now on, we go our separate ways. Don't go spreading nonsense to Winona. She's innocent and kind---I don't want you frightening her." Just as he finished speaking, the gallery's glass door was pushed open from outside. "Ethan, aren't you done yet?" A sweet, cloying voice called out. Winona swayed in, acting like an arrogant heiress. The moment Ethan saw her, the gloom on his face vanished instantly. He rushed to greet her, his posture extremely humble. His tone was obsequious and flattering: "Winona, why did you come in person? This place is filthy---be careful not to dirty your limited edition shoes." Winona removed her sunglasses and surveyed my gallery with disgust. "It really is a dump." She walked up to me, looking down with undisguised contempt in her eyes. "So you're Ethan's ex-wife? You're just average-looking. No wonder he chose me. These days, a pretty face isn't enough---you need to bring value to your man." I looked at this face I'd paid to hire, barely suppressing my laughter. Nina's acting was definitely worth the fifty thousand a month. "Miss Lynn, is it?" I leaned back in my chair without standing. "You've got the man. I've signed the papers. The door's that way. I won't see you out." Winona sneered. "Quite the attitude. Ethan, I don't like how arrogant she's being." Ethan immediately turned around, frowning at me with apparent anguish. "Samantha, watch your attitude. Winona is a real heiress. Don't take out your lower-class resentment on her. Apologize to Winona right now." "You want me to apologize to her?" I looked at him coldly. "Ethan, this is my gallery. Tell your fiancée to shut her privileged mouth." Ethan took a deep breath, as if trying hard to control his anger. He didn't explode. Instead, he shook his head, looking at me like I was a hopeless idiot. "You're such a disappointment, Samantha. I wanted to leave you with some dignity, but since you're so ungrateful, suit yourself." He turned around and protectively put his arm around Winona. "Winona, let's go. Don't let this kind of person ruin your mood before John Corporation's banquet." Watching their intertwined figures leave, I pulled out my phone and sent a message to Mr. Kane. "How are the banquet preparations coming?" He replied instantly: "Miss, everything is ready. We're just waiting for you." I locked my screen and looked out the window. Ethan, you think you've climbed to a high branch. You don't know it's just a deep pit I dug for your destruction.
The gallery fell quiet again. I picked up the divorce agreement from the table and casually tossed it into the nearby trash can. Ethan thought he had me figured out. He assumed that without him, I could only slink back home in disgrace. After all, for the past three years, to play the role of a gentle, considerate ordinary wife, I'd worn cheap clothes from Amazon every day, tied on an apron in the kitchen to make him soup, and even rented this storefront to run a gallery so I wouldn't seem too idle. I'd disguised everything perfectly. Before I could collect myself, the screech of brakes sounded outside. Ethan had returned. This time without Winona, but followed by several uniformed movers. He maintained that suited, superior elite demeanor, one hand in his pocket, his tone coldly issuing orders. "Clear out all the unnecessary stuff in here. Be careful---don't scratch the walls." I frowned and stood up. "What the hell are you doing, Ethan?" Ethan pulled a rental contract from his briefcase and placed it lightly on the table, his expression as detached as if handling an insignificant business matter. "Face reality, Samantha. When we rented this place, we used my ID. The contract has my name on it. Now I'm taking back this space." I looked at the contract. Back then, I'd let him sign it because I didn't want the hassle of exposing the John family's assets. But I'd paid ten years of rent upfront. "I paid the rent," I stated coldly. Ethan looked like he'd heard a joke, smirking helplessly. "You can't sell two paintings a month. Where would you get money for rent? It was all scraped together from the household money I gave you every month, wasn't it?" He adjusted his perfect tie. His tone was dismissive: "Winona thinks the lighting in this location is nice. She's planning to convert it into her private walk-in closet. Samantha, stop making a scene. Leave with some dignity---it's better for both of us." He waved his hand, and the movers immediately came forward to carry out my easels and paintings. "Careful there." Ethan pointed at an oil painting on the wall that had taken me two months to complete. He told the workers, "Throw this junk straight into the garbage truck. Don't pile it by the door where it'll offend Winona's eyes." The workers roughly tore the painting down. The frame hit the floor, paint scattering everywhere. Ethan didn't even glance at it, just stepped back in disgust, afraid the dust would dirty his custom leather shoes. I didn't try to stop them. Arguing with a shallow person blinded by vanity would only lower my own worth. "Fine." I nodded, picking up my canvas bag from the table, my expression utterly calm. "Ethan, this space is yours. I hope you enjoy tonight's banquet as much as you're enjoying this right now." Ethan smiled slightly, thinking I was just venting impotent rage and jealousy. "Of course. Tonight I'll meet John Corporation's chairman directly. Once I get my vice president appointment letter, our worlds will be separated by an insurmountable wall. Take care of yourself." I didn't acknowledge him further, walking straight out of the gallery. The sunlight outside was blinding. I glanced back. Ethan stood in the wreckage, hands clasped behind his back like a nouveau riche surveying his territory, directing workers to throw away my heart's work like garbage. I pulled out my phone and called Mr. Kane. "Look into Ethan's current company." I walked forward while speaking coldly. "Tell HR that by tomorrow morning, I want to see his termination notice and a massive claim for breach of non-compete agreement." "Yes, Miss. Also..." Mr. Kane paused. "When we went to your rental apartment to pack your clothes, we discovered your Ocean Heart sapphire necklace was missing. The drawer showed signs of being pried open. Should we report it to the police?" I stopped walking and suddenly laughed coldly. "To buy all those luxury items for Nina to maintain appearances, Ethan probably maxed out all his cards and exhausted his loans, didn't he? With nowhere else to turn, he thought to steal my cheap knockoff and give it as a gift." "Don't report it." I got into the car waiting by the curb. "Let him wear it to the banquet. Stolen goods shine brightest under the spotlight. The higher he climbs, the more thoroughly he'll be destroyed when he falls."
By the time I returned to my suburban villa, it was getting dark. In the living room, over a dozen of New York's top stylists and assistants had been waiting. When they saw me enter, they bowed in unison: "Miss." I tossed my cheap canvas bag onto the sofa and sat down before the makeup mirror. "Let's begin." For the next two hours, I let them strip away three years of disguise as an ordinary housewife. As layers of French haute couture draped my body, as my casually pinned hair was styled into lazy, elegant waves, the downtrodden Samantha in the mirror disappeared. In her place stood the heiress of John Corporation with all her rightful brilliance. Mr. Kane approached carrying a velvet box. Inside lay a dazzling pink diamond necklace---my mother's legacy. "Miss, it's almost time." At eight o'clock, an extended Rolls-Royce Phantom pulled smoothly up to the main entrance of the Peninsula Hotel. Tonight, John Corporation had reserved the entire Peninsula Hotel. Security was extremely tight. Countless luxury cars stopped before the red carpet. Everyone who stepped out was truly powerful and influential in New York. The car door was respectfully opened by the doorman. I lifted my gown, just extending one leg, when a familiar voice came from the edge of the crowd at the security perimeter. "Samantha?! How did you follow us here like some ghost?!" I looked toward the voice. Beyond the security line, Ethan was staring at me with wide eyes. He probably assumed this Rolls-Royce belonged to some dignitary, and I was shamelessly crashing the red carpet. Winona clung to his arm in a cheap rented gown, but around her neck hung the sapphire necklace pried from my drawer. Seeing I wasn't responding, Ethan tried to push past the security line to show off in front of Winona, lowering his voice to scold me: "I'm warning you---this isn't a place for trash like you to make a scene! Get lost right now before you embarrass yourself!" Winona deliberately thrust out her chest, flaunting the stolen goods around her neck, covering her mouth with a coy laugh: "Ethan, your ex-wife is so pathetic. Where did she rent that knockoff gown from? Is she here to find a sugar daddy? Too bad---not even a fly can get through that door." I looked coldly at the necklace around Winona's neck, my gaze penetrating: "That necklace---comfortable to wear?" Winona smugly touched her neck. "Of course it's comfortable. Ethan specially bought this for me. It cost hundreds of thousands! A poor woman like you has probably never even seen the real thing, right?" Ethan averted his eyes somewhat guiltily, his gaze shifty. He knew exactly where that necklace came from, but he could never imagine that what he thought was a knockoff was actually worth ten million dollars. "Stop making trouble here, Samantha." Ethan tried to cover his guilt with arrogance. "Winona's necklace has nothing to do with you! I'm about to go in and meet Chairman John. If you anger the important people inside, you won't even know how you died!" Just then, a low engine roar tore through the night. A black Maybach drove straight up beside the Rolls-Royce and stopped. The door opened, and a man in a custom suit with an intensely oppressive presence stepped out. The surrounding crowd immediately gasped in shock. "It's the Payne family's eldest son! New York's crown prince, Caspian Payne!"
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