The comatose billionaire husband I married on behalf of Vivian—Hudson Harrington—had suddenly woken up. The moment he opened his eyes, he transferred a insulting $0.77 to my bank account. Meanwhile, he sent a staggering $7.7 million to Vivian, who was standing right by his hospital bed. I kept quiet, but he chose to humiliate me in front of everyone. “You’re nothing but a placeholder, Michelle. Don’t flatter yourself by dreaming about things that don’t belong to you.” “The Harrington family has money to burn, but I’d rather set it on fire than give a single dime to a deceitful substitute like you.” “Take your seventy-seven cents and get the hell out of my house.” I didn’t argue. I calmly signed the divorce papers and walked away with absolutely nothing. Five years later, we ran into each other at a prestigious, high-end art exhibition. He was dressed in a pristine bespoke suit, looking more powerful and sharp than ever. As for me? I was kneeling on the cold floor, carefully using a microfiber cloth to wipe away a stain from the corner of a painting. His eyes flared with cold disdain. “Michelle? Look at you. Did leaving me really reduce you to a pathetic gallery janitor?” “Don’t even bother begging. I wouldn’t give you a single penny even if you starved in front of me.” I didn’t even look up. I just kept my focus, gently dabbing away the last bit of the smudge.
In the center of the exhibition hall, Hudson stood tall, surrounded by a crowd of sycophants. Over the past five years, he had expanded the Harrington Group into an absolute empire. People were practically tripping over themselves to flatter him. “Mr. Harrington, are you here for the masterpiece of the legendary artist, Atalanta?” “I heard the starting bid for The Departure is in the eight figures. If you secure it, the Harrington Group’s dominance in the art investment world will be untouchable.” Hudson gave a curt nod. His eyes weren’t on the painting, though. They were locked dead on me. Standing beside him was Vivian, wearing an elegant champagne silk gown. Her makeup was flawless, and she smiled softly, resting her hand on his arm. “Hudson has always had impeccable taste in art. We’re just here to browse today.” Despite her modest words, her eyes practically dripped with smugness. Hudson’s face darkened with irritation. He looked at me as if my very existence was a stain on his perfect evening. I remained kneeling, completely focused on the canvas. A crying child had run past a moment ago, accidentally brushing their chocolate ice cream against the bottom corner of the painting. “Excuse me, ma’am! This is a high-profile exhibition. Please step away from the artwork immediately!” A gallery manager in a sharp suit rushed over, his voice sharp and tense. He took one look at my simple white t-shirt, faded jeans, and the faint paint smudges on my fingers. His eyes practically flared with hostility. “I’m sorry, but the painting was smudged. I’m just cleaning it up,” I explained quietly. The manager’s face fell. “This painting is worth tens of millions! You’re ‘cleaning’ it? Can you even begin to comprehend the liability here?” “Get up, now! Don’t ruin the experience for our VIP guests.” Though he didn’t yell, his voice was loud enough to draw a crowd. Within seconds, every eye in the gallery was fixed on me. Right then, Hudson strolled over, with Vivian clinging tightly to his arm. Our eyes met. His gaze was colder than ice, filled with utter disgust. “Michelle?” The manager blinked, looking at Hudson. “Mr. Harrington, you know her?” Hudson let out a cold, dismissive sneer. “Just a desperate relative who would do absolutely anything for money. We don’t know each other.” With that, he looked away, as if looking at me for another second would rot his brain. Vivian immediately tightened her grip on his arm, putting on a show of mock pity. “Michelle, why on earth are you working a job like this?” “I know you were bitter when you had to leave the Harrington estate, but you didn’t have to degrade yourself like this.” “Being a cleaner isn’t shameful, of course. But doing it at a high-end gallery like this? Aren’t you a bit out of your depth?” Her words instantly sealed my fate as a “pathetic, desperate cleaner” in everyone’s eyes. The manager’s face twisted in disgust. He reached out to grab my arm. “Get out of here! Stop making a scene. If you ruin our gallery’s reputation, you won’t survive the lawsuit!” I dodged his hand, my voice turning icy. “I told you, I can fix this. If there’s any damage, I will take full responsibility.” He let out a harsh laugh. “Responsibility? With what? You could sell your kidney and still not afford a single inch of this canvas!” He reached out to grab me again. I ignored him entirely. I pulled a specialized fine brush and a small bottle of organic solvent from my canvas tote bag, carefully working on the stubborn spot. Hudson’s brows furrowed deeply. He probably thought this was another one of my elaborate stunts to win back his attention.
“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.
“Call the police!” The manager screamed, frantically pulling out his phone. “This is Atalanta’s absolute masterpiece! The crown jewel of our exhibition! You are going to prison for this!” Hudson watched the chaos unfold, a cold, satisfied smirk touching his lips. “Is this what you wanted, Michelle? Ruining a masterpiece just to get back at me?” He slowly walked up to the ruined canvas, staring at the ugly red stain, and shook his head. “Too bad your little plan backfired. I’m buying this painting.” He turned to the trembling manager. “Name your price. Ruined or not, I’m taking it.” He cast one last, sweeping look of pure disgust at me. “As for her, throw her out. I don’t ever want to see her face again.” The crowd erupted into murmurs of admiration. “Mr. Harrington is incredibly generous! Buying a ruined multi-million-dollar painting just like that!” “That cleaner got ridiculously lucky. If Mr. Harrington doesn’t press charges, she won’t have to rot in prison.” Vivian clung to Hudson’s arm, letting out a relieved sigh. “Oh, Hudson. You’re so good to me. I knew you wouldn’t let anything happen to me.” She looked at me over her shoulder, her eyes screaming: See? Even if I burn this place to the ground, Hudson will clean up my mess. And you? You’re just a stray dog waiting for our scraps. The manager looked like he had just been handed a lifeline. He bowed repeatedly. “Mr. Harrington, you are a saint! Since the painting is… well, damaged, how about we settle for fifty percent of the starting bid…?” “No.” I stood up, my voice cutting through the noise like a knife. Once again, all eyes locked onto me. “This painting is not for sale.” Hudson’s expression hardened instantly. “Michelle, what right do you have to say no? Who do you think you are?” I looked him dead in the eye, my voice steady. “I said, this. Painting. Is. Not. For. Sale.” “Ha!” Vivian laughed hysterically. “Michelle, have you completely lost your mind? You’re a literal janitor. What makes you think you have any say in what this gallery sells?” She turned to the manager, her voice sharp. “Manager, why are you still standing there?” “Mr. Harrington is doing your gallery a massive favor by buying this garbage! Kick this crazy woman out!” The manager snapped out of his shock and quickly waved over two burly security guards. “Drag her out! Now!” The guards stepped forward, reaching for my shoulders. I watched them approach, my heart turning cold. Five years ago, Hudson’s family security had dragged me out of their mansion just like this. Five years later, they wanted history to repeat itself. Just as their hands were about to touch me, a calm, authoritative voice echoed from the back of the crowd. “Don’t touch her.”
The crowd parted instantly. A man in a crisp, tailored white linen shirt walked forward. He carried an aura of quiet, understated elegance, yet his presence commanded the entire room. “Mr. Roberts!” The manager’s knees practically buckled. He looked like he was about to drop to his knees. “You… what are you doing here?” The man was Charles Roberts, a world-renowned curator, the organizer of this very exhibition, and the sole global agent of the mysterious legendary painter, “Atalanta.” Charles completely ignored the manager. He walked straight up to me, his eyes softening as he looked at the ruined painting. “What happened, Michelle?” he asked gently, his tone laced with genuine concern. Before I could speak, Vivian jumped in to play the victim. “Mr. Roberts! Thank goodness you’re here!” “This cleaner not only messed up the painting earlier, but she also tripped me on purpose, causing me to spill my wine all over it!” “Hudson was kind enough to offer to buy it to cover the loss, but she’s actively blocking the sale!” Hudson stepped forward, offering a polite nod to Charles. He lowered his usual arrogant posture significantly. “Mr. Roberts, it was just a minor accident. I’ll buy the painting at full price. Let’s consider it a gesture of goodwill.” He clearly wanted to showcase his wealth and status to impress Charles. Charles’s gaze swept coldly over Hudson and Vivian, before landing back on me. His eyes held a silent question. “I can restore it,” I said simply. “What?” Hudson scoffed loudly. “Michelle, are you insane? Do you have any idea whose work this is?” “This is Atalanta’s work! The most mysterious and highly valued artist of our generation!” “And you claim you can restore it? Who do you think you are?” “Stop embarrassing yourself. You’re only making me despise you more.” But Charles smiled.
🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “460899”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster
Leave a Reply