Chapter 2

A crazy, absurd thought suddenly crossed my mind.

I glanced around the room, my eyes landing on a brand-name watch with a broken strap on the nightstand. It was the first gift Adam ever gave me. After the strap broke, I stopped wearing it.

I took a deep breath, picked up the watch, and forced myself to recall all the tragedies of my previous life, squeezing out a single tear.

The tear landed on the broken strap.

The same glow appeared once again.

When the glow faded, I opened my palm. The watch rested quietly in my hand, the leather strap looked as good as new, and even the faint scratches on the dial had vanished without a trace.

I awakened a special power, which could restore everything.

My heart raced in my chest, not from fear, but from a wild, ecstatic thrill I'd never felt before.

I looked at the porcelain bottle and the watch in my hand, and then remembered the nasty attitudes of the Sinclair family downstairs. A crazy scheme started to form in my mind.

Didn't the Sinclair family see me as nothing but a nuisance? Didn't they want to kick me out with nothing?

Alright. But this time, I'd make them pay dearly for their arrogance and stupidity.

At seven o'clock sharp, Adam came home.

He was holding a brand-name gift box, wearing that same stiff smile he had when he handed me the divorce agreement in my previous life.

"Grace, happy anniversary," Adam said as he handed me the box. "It's your favorite brand. The latest limited edition."

If this were my previous life, I would've taken the gift with a big smile, cooked him a special dinner, and poured out all my love for him.

But now, I just gave him a cold stare and didn't bother to take the box.

My gaze drifted to the barely noticeable lipstick stain on his shirt collar. It was at the same spot as last time, and the color was unmistakably Vivian's.

He must've just come from Vivian's place, only stopping by to give me the bare minimum before he dropped the bomb.

Adam's smile froze for a moment. He noticed right away that something was off.

"What's wrong? Why the long face?" he frowned, impatience creeping into his voice. "I've been slammed at work all day, and I still took the time to pick this up for you..."

"Let's get divorced," I cut him off.

The atmosphere froze.

Adam's impatience melted into shock. He never thought I'd be the one to ask for a divorce since I was always quite meek.

"Grace, what's your problem?" Adam took a deep breath, struggling to keep his anger in check. "I know I've been neglecting you lately, but you don't have to go this far..."

"I'm not making a scene," I said, pulling out the divorce agreement I prepared from under the coffee table and sliding it over to him. "I've already signed it. I don't want anything. I'm walking away with nothing."

Adam stared at the agreement, his shock shifting into scrutiny and doubt. He never expected me, someone who always played by his rules, to be so straightforward and resolute.

He fell silent for a moment, weighing his options in the face of this sudden twist.

To me, this felt like a silent torment. As I stared at the face I'd loved for three years, the dull ache in my chest was still there. But I knew I had to steel myself.

"Are you sure?" Adam finally spoke, his voice laced with a hint of contempt. "Think carefully. Without me and the Sinclair family, you're nothing."

"I'm absolutely sure," I replied, meeting his gaze with a cold, dead calm. "I have just one condition."

"Spill it," he said as he leaned back on the couch, slipping right back into that superior attitude, like he was listening to a subordinate's report.

"I want everything from the warehouse in your backyard, all the stuff you've been storing there," I said, my words deliberate and clear.

Those were all the Sinclair family's cast-off furniture, busted antiques, and gifts they never liked. In their eyes, they were nothing but junk cluttering up the place, stuff they'd been dying to toss out for years.

Adam blinked in surprise, and then scoffed, like he'd heard the biggest joke of the year.

"That's it?" His contempt only grew. "Grace, you really have some nerve. Fine, whatever. Just get someone to haul that trash out tomorrow. Save me the hassle and the cash."

He thought I was just being sulky, trying to show off my last bit of stubbornness.

He grabbed the pen, didn't even bother to read the agreement, and scrawled his signature across the page.

In his mind, offloading his ex-wife for nothing but a warehouse full of junk was the sweetest deal imaginable.

He probably thought I was doing him a favor, clearing the way so he could welcome Vivian in with style and without delay.

He had no idea that what he signed wasn't just a divorce agreement.

He was actually handing over the Sinclair family's future wealth, gift-wrapped and ready for me to claim.