Chapter 3
625words
But I was penniless—all my accounts frozen.
I ransacked the entire mansion until I finally discovered some rarely-worn jewelry hidden at the bottom of my mother's jewelry box.
This was my last hope.
I headed to the most prestigious vintage luxury store downtown.
The owner, Mr. Wang, had been acquainted with my father. I hoped he might show me some leniency.
I placed the entire jewelry box before him.
"Mr. Wang, could you tell me what these might be worth?"
Mr. Wang opened the box, gave the contents a cursory glance, then closed it.
He sighed and poured me a glass of water.
"Nina, I'd like to help you, truly. But these items… given the Howard family's current situation… I simply can't risk accepting them."
My heart sank.
"Mr. Wang, I promise these are legitimate! They belonged to my mother—"
"I know," Mr. Wang interrupted. "But everyone's calling the Howards fraudsters now. If I accept these and they're flagged as stolen property, my business would be ruined."
He wrung his hands nervously.
"How about this—I'll personally give you 100,000 yuan as a gesture of goodwill. But please, take these items back with you."
A hundred thousand?
This collection was worth at least ten million, conservatively speaking.
A hundred thousand was a pittance.
I was about to refuse when the shop door swung open, wind chimes tinkling.
Ethan Lane strode in.
He wore an impeccably tailored black suit, looking immaculate—a stark contrast to my disheveled appearance.
"Nina, what brings you here?" he asked with manufactured surprise. "Shopping? You should have told me—I would've escorted you."
Mr. Wang's expression instantly transformed into obsequious deference.
"Mr. Lane! What an honor to have you visit today!"
Ethan ignored him and walked directly to me, picking up the jewelry box.
He opened it, extracted a jade ring my mother had treasured, and examined it under the light.
"Excellent quality. Mr. Wang, what would you value this at?"
Mr. Wang wiped sweat from his brow and stammered: "This… well, market value would be… around three million?"
"Three million?" Ethan laughed softly. "Mr. Wang, you're undervaluing my fiancée's possessions."
He pulled a checkbook from his inner pocket, scrawled a figure, tore out the check, and handed it to Mr. Wang.
"Ten million. I'm reclaiming these items for Nina."
He pushed the jewelry box toward me with a solicitous tone:
"Nina, darling, don't sell our memories. If you need money, just ask your fiancé."
"How much do you need? A million? Two million?"
He pulled a thick stack of bills from his wallet and waved it before my eyes, like someone teasing a stray dog.
Then he loosened his grip.
The crisp bills scattered across the floor like confetti.
"Oops. Butter fingers."
He looked down at me, his smile gentle but his words razor-sharp.
"Nina, would you mind picking those up yourself? After all, this is what you came for, isn't it?"
Every eye in the store fixed on me.
Some gazes held sympathy, others contempt, but most contained the gleeful schadenfreude of spectators.
I watched Mr. Wang retreat discreetly, afraid of being associated with my humiliation.
My entire body trembled—not from cold, but from rage and humiliation.
I bit my lip until I tasted blood.
Finally, I slowly crouched down and reached out with trembling hands.
In the suffocating silence, I gathered each bill from the floor, each one soaked with my shattered dignity.
Ethan stood watching, savoring my degradation.
One bill lay directly beneath his polished shoe.
I reached for it, but his leather oxford deliberately pressed down on it.
He bent down, his lips brushing my ear as he whispered:
"Nina Howard, you look exactly like a dog right now."
