Chapter 2

I dialed his number again, tears burning my eyes. "Julian, she's really dying. Please. I'm begging you."

A heavy silence lingered on the line for a few seconds.

"If you want something, show genuine remorse," he said flatly. "Come to the gallery tomorrow morning. Fix the antique painting Evelyn accidentally tore. If you can show me dignity and generosity, I'll consider signing the transfer and adding points back to your card."

My knuckles turned white around the phone. "I'll come right now."

"No. Tomorrow at nine sharp. Don't be late."

He hung up.

By dawn, my temperature had spiked to 102°F.

I swallowed two fever reducers, pulled on slacks to hide the swollen cut on my ankle, and walked into the gallery on the dot.

Julian glanced at me. "You look pale. Didn't sleep well?"

"Just a cold."

"Take care of yourself. Don't let it affect your work." He turned toward the private studio. "The painting is in the restoration room. I asked Evelyn to keep you company. She likes watching artists work."

Inside the room, I put on gloves and started blending pigments.

Evelyn slipped inside and perched on a velvet chair nearby. "You're so skilled, Clara. Julian mentioned you used to be a renowned master restorer before your hand got ruined. What a pity. You could've been so accomplished."

I ignored her, focusing every ounce of strength into holding the brush steady.

The raging fever made my hands shake; every stroke required biting down through the dizzying pain.

Two hours later, the intricate canvas was finally restored.

I set the brush down and exhaled a long breath.

"You worked so hard, Clara. Let me get you some water."

Evelyn rose, holding a glass as she walked toward me.

Right as she neared the workbench, I caught the glint of an X-Acto blade hidden against her wrist.

With a sharp cry, she tumbled to the floor. The blade clattered onto the hardwood.

Right down the center of the restored canvas, a violent gash had sliced it clean in two.

Hurried footsteps echoed outside.

Julian burst into the room. He bypassed the ruined canvas and went straight for Evelyn, scooping her up and clutching her hand with frantic care. "Where does it hurt? Are you okay?"

Evelyn wept against his chest. "Julian, I'm fine... I just tripped. It's all my fault. I shouldn't have disturbed her..."

After inspecting the slight redness on Evelyn's wrist, Julian spun around and saw the shredded painting. His face hardened like slate.

"Julian, she did it—"

"Stop lying!" he barked, his voice icy. "I thought you came here to let go of your jealousy. Instead, you destroyed a priceless piece and tried to hurt Evelyn! Your malice knows no bottom, Clara."

I stared right into his eyes. "She sliced it right in front of me with a blade! I saw it—"

"That's enough!" He snatched a legal folder from his assistant and slammed it onto the desk. "This is an admission of fault and compensation agreement. That piece is valued at two million dollars. Sign it now, and I won't press criminal charges."

My fingers shook uncontrollably. "I didn't destroy it."

"Where is your proof? The studio cameras are offline. Only you and Evelyn were in this room. Her hand is bruised, and you're completely untouched. Own up to your actions!"

Evelyn tugged weakly at his sleeve, sniffing. "Julian, let it go... maybe she didn't mean to..."

"She must face the consequences," Julian declared.

He stepped directly up to me and forced the pen into my right hand.

My weakened fingers couldn't hold it, and it clattered to the floor.

Frowning with irritation, he grabbed the pen, seized my scarred right hand, and forced my fingers around it with bruising pressure.

That hand was covered in terrible, distorted burn scars.

The nerve damage made even slight pressure feel like needles stabbing into bone.

"Sign it," he demanded coldly. "Tame your spite. This is the last bit of mercy I will ever offer you."

Spasms racked my body. Cold sweat drenched my back. "Julian... it hurts..."

He pressed down even harder. "It's just signing your name. Stop acting."

My vision blurred into gray.

With my left hand, I gripped the desk edge so hard my nails cracked.

Finally, I switched the pen to my trembling left hand and dragged my signature across the page.

I lifted my head and locked eyes with him.

"Julian... you better pray to God you never get your memories back."