Chapter 3
"Nice! Got some guts, huh?" Ingemar scoffed.
"I really want to see what you'll turn into without me, Natalia!"
He was convinced Natalia wouldn't last three days before coming back, crying and begging him to take her back.
After all, for the past three years, she'd been nothing but a clingy little flower, so pampered she couldn't even open a bottle cap on her own.
She didn't know how to do anything except love him.
His assistant carefully walked in. "Mr. Guimond, it's Ms. Limmen on the phone."
Irritated, Ingemar grabbed the phone.
"Hey, Iliona," he said.
"Ingemar, are you home yet? I'm sorry, it's all my fault. I made Natalia misunderstand."
Iliona's voice came through, sounding fragile and a little pitiful.
His anger cooled off a little.
"It's not your fault," Ingemar said, his tone softening. "She's just being unreasonable."
"Is Natalia okay? Should I go explain things to her?" Iliona asked.
"No need," Ingemar replied coldly. "Let her cool off. She'll come back in a few days."
After hanging up, he sat in the trashed living room, chain-smoking through the night.
Natalia didn't come back the first day.
She still didn't show up the second day.
By the third day, Ingemar finally lost his cool.
He tried calling Natalia, but her phone was switched off.
He sent people to look for her, but it was like she'd vanished into thin air, no trace of her anywhere.
Ingemar's heart was in turmoil.
A cold fear crept in.
The woman who used to live and breathe for him really seemed like she didn't want him anymore.
For the next six months, Ingemar was like a man possessed.
He pulled every string he had, turned the whole city upside down, but he couldn't even find a single trace of Natalia.
She was like a drop of water vanishing into the sea, gone without a trace.
Without Natalia, his villa felt empty and cold.
He couldn't sleep, night after night.
Whenever Ingemar closed his eyes, Natalia's presence was all over his mind.
Her smile, her tears, the way she'd quietly sit by the window reading...
It hit him then that this woman he'd always thought was insignificant had seeped into every part of his life.
Iliona still dropped by, checking in on him, always gentle and caring.
But for some reason, whenever Ingemar looked at her face, which was so similar to Natalia's, he felt a strange sense of annoyance he couldn't explain.
"Ingemar, what's wrong? You seem so exhausted lately," Iliona asked gently, her voice full of concern.
She reached out, trying to rub his temples for him.
But Ingemar pulled back sharply, his gaze turning cold.
"Don't touch me!" he barked.
Iliona flinched, her eyes immediately brimming with tears.
"Ingemar, I... I was just worried about you..." she stammered.
"I said don't touch me!" Ingemar barked, jumping to his feet. "And don't come bothering me again unless you have a damn good reason."
He stormed out, slamming the door behind him, leaving Iliona standing there, her face pale as a ghost, a flicker of malice flashing in her eyes.
Iliona blame it on Natalia.
Iliona thought Natalia just wouldn't let go of Ingemar's heart, though she was gone.
*****
Half a year later.
A new star was rising in the Goldenmere art scene.
An enigmatic curator from the East, known only as "The Hidden One," suddenly burst onto the scene.
With her razor-sharp eye and a Midas touch, she turned three unknown artists into rising stars in just six months, launching them straight into the ranks of the art world's elite.
Every exhibition she curated was packed to the brim, tickets selling out in a flash.
Top galleries and collectors waved their checkbooks, all hoping for a meeting, but she shut them out every time.
She never showed her face, never gave interviews; her mystery was the stuff of legend.
The name "The Hidden One" had become the most coveted name in the art world.
In Velmoor, inside a private art gallery, Natalia, known to the world as "The Hidden One", stood before a painting, dressed in a stunning red gown, holding a glass of champagne with effortless grace.
She slipped off the sunglasses that had concealed half her face, revealing features of ethereal, striking beauty, yet there was a cool, distant air about her.
Half a year could change someone beyond recognition.
She was no longer the timid woman whose world used to revolve around Ingemar.
She'd chopped her hair short, started smoking, and mastered the art of saying the cruelest things in the gentlest tone.
"Not bad," Natalia said, a subtle smile playing on her lips as she gazed at the oil painting called "Rebirth."
The artist was a struggling blond youth.
"Thank you! Thank you, Ms. Hidden One," the young man blurted out, so overwhelmed he could barely string words together.
He knew that as long as he had this woman's approval, his fate was about to change forever.