What else could you call it but self-destruction?


    She wanted a divorce, wanted to stop loving him, yet Timothy seemed determined to parade his charm in front of her, as if by sheer persistence he could change her mind. It felt like she ran into him nearly every day.


    Jessica met his icy gaze without flinching, her hands still moving expressively. "If you want to dote on someone, go ahead. If you want to forgive someone, that''s your business. I don''t want it, Timothy. Stop trying to force me."


    Doting, forgiving—what did those even meaning from him?


    She nearlyughed. It was all self-important nonsense, wasn''t it?


    She hadn''t felt an ounce of the love or patience he imed to have for her. All she knew was that he kept someone else in his heart, yet still needed her as a shield. He wouldn''t let her go, and every single thing he did only brought her more


    misery.


    "Jessica." Timothy''s voice was dangerously cold, carrying the kind of authority that could freeze you in ce. "I married you so you would be my wife. For seven years, you''ve done your job well. Buttely, you''ve been acting out of line. Keep pushing your luck, and you know life won''t be so easy for you."


    Jessica sneered, her gestures sharp with sarcasm. "So you''re going to treat me like one of your business rivals? Fine. Go ahead. I''m not afraid."


    She was dying anyway-what more could he possibly threaten her with?


    Timothy''s face had gone utterly nk. He straightened in the driver''s seat, his elegant hands gripping the wheel, his voice turning even colder: "Get out."


    He didn''t want to see her anymore. If this kept up, he honestly didn''t know what he might do.


    He unlocked the doors.


    At the sound, Jessica pushed the door open and left without looking back.


    His hands tightened on the steering wheel, knuckles turning white.


    His eyes, dark as midnight, stayed fixed on her receding figure in the rearview mirror-so stubborn, not a trace of regret in her stride.


    Back at the hotel, Jessica opened her toolkit and got to work.


    Vince had agreed to keep her hotel a secret and maybe, she thought, he could help her find a way out of this marriage.


    Timothy''s behavior tonight was a stark reminder: if he wanted to break his promise a month from now, it would be all too easy.


    She should never have trusted him.


    Tomorrow, she''d be attending Larkin Zimmerman''s birthday dinner.


    No matter how difficult things got, she''d find a way to get free from Timothy and


    his son.


    The next day.


    It waste afternoon by the time Jessica finished the handmade gift she''d prepared for Larkin.


    She hurried to the framing shop.


    Paper-cutting was no longer just for window or cab decorations. It had found its way into architecture, fashion-anywhere intricate patterns could shine.


    Framing paper-cut art was another modern adaptation.


    Even in the West, there were renowned artists who''d blended paper-cutting with


    oil painting, creating rare but highly prized masterpieces.


    When done skillfully, paper-cutting could be just as impressive as any other art form. Otherwise, why`


    ould the Zimmermans be willing to


    pay three million for her work?


    Years ago, Ines had sought her out precisely because of the way she had fused paper-cutting into animation.


    Still, this craft was a niche pursuit. Not many people loved it, but those who did were always deeply sentimental and loyal to tradition.


    Jessica had done her homework: the Zimmermans'' ancestors had been merchants centuries ago. During wartime, they''d fallen on hard times and their ancestral home was damaged. The local government had offered to restore it, so Larkin''s father donated it to the state. Now, it was a historicalndmark open to tourists.


    After Larkin achieved sess, he poured even more money into its restoration and expansion.


    Since it was a well-known local attraction, Jessica had easily found an old photograph of the original Zimmerman estate online.


    The picture showed not just the grand house, but also the bustling street outside -rich with the vor of another era.


    Most of the younger Zimmermans had never lived there, but Larkin had spent his entire childhood within those walls.