Chapter 4

Scarlett Sanders' POV

There was a deathly silence inside the car.

I looked down at the preposterous “letter of commitment” on my lap. Every word printed on that sheet mocked my ten years of stupidity and cheap devotion.

Suddenly, I laughed.

It was a faint, soft laugh, but it carried absolute finality.

Under Julian's slightly bewildered gaze, I picked up the letter of commitment, gripping the edges with both hands—

“Riiiiip!”

The sharp sound of tearing paper was deafeningly loud in the confined space.

Once, twice, thrice.

Without any expression, I shredded the commitment letter into tiny pieces. Then, raising my hand, I hurled the paper confetti straight at Julian's handsome but distorted face.

“Julian, do you not understand plain English?” I said, watching the fragments rain down. My voice was entirely flat and cold. “I said, I am calling off the engagement. From this moment on, whether you live or die has absolutely nothing to do with me.”

“Scarlett!” Julian lost it completely, the veins on his forehead bulging. He lunged forward, wrapping his hand tightly around my throat, and glared at me with pure venom. “Fine! Great! Don't you dare regret this and come begging me later!”

He shoved me away violently, roaring, “Get the hell out of my car!”

Without a second of hesitation, I pushed open the door and stepped out into the freezing, late-autumn night.

I heard him slam his fist against the steering wheel before barking a furious order to the driver, “Go! Nobody helps her!”

...

Two days later.

I received word from a friend that one of my mother's early paintings, *Sunflowers*, which had been lost for years, was going up for auction tonight.

My mother had been a moderately well-known painter before she passed, and this piece was one of the few relics she left behind. I dug out all my credit cards and emptied my savings accounts to pull together enough cash, then took a cab to the auction hall.

The moment I stepped into the grand, glittering auction hall, my steps came to a sudden halt.

In the VIP section not far away, Julian Foster sat clad in a bespoke suit, leaning back lazily against his seat. Chloe Summers, draped in a gorgeous haute couture gown, clung to him bonelessly, snuggling into his chest.

Seeing me, Chloe's eyes lit up, and she intentionally raised her voice. "Oh my, isn't this Ms. Sanders? Well, look at that. After being kicked out by Julian, you actually still have money to spend in a place like this?"

Hearing her words, Julian Foster turned his head. The moment he saw me, a faint, barely perceptible trace of smugness flashed across his eyes.

I gave them a cold sweep of my eyes, said nothing, and walked straight to a secluded seat in the back row to sit down.

The auction began shortly after.

I had absolutely no interest in the initial bidding items—until the auctioneer pulled back the red cloth, revealing the passionately colored painting, *Sunflowers*.

"Starting bid: one million."

"One point five million," I raised my paddle immediately.

"Two million," a sweet, cloying voice followed immediately.

I turned around to see Chloe holding up her paddle, looking at me with a smirk of provocation.

"Three million," I gritted my teeth.

"Five million," Chloe followed up without a moment's hesitation. Then, she turned to coo sweetly to Julian, "Julian, the colors in this painting are so hideous. How about we buy it just to hang it in the bathroom?"

Julian stroked her hair affectionately. "As long as you like it."

The price skyrocketed, quickly surging past ten million.

My palms were slick with cold sweat. I only had twelve million left in my bank account. This was my last remaining card to play.

"Twelve million," I called, raising my paddle. My voice was already trembling.

Just as Chloe was about to bid again, Julian suddenly pressed his hand down over hers.

"That's enough." Julian looked at my pale face. Thinking I had been pushed to the brink of despair, his lips curled into a patronizing sneer. "Let her have it. Next week is my birthday. She's spending every last cent of her savings on this painting for no other reason than to give it to me as a birthday present, hoping to use the chance to beg for my forgiveness."

Chloe pouted and lowered her paddle.

"Twelve million, sold!"

At the sound of the gavel strike, my tight-strung nerves finally relaxed. I walked briskly backstage to complete the payment and transfer procedures, cradling the painting carefully in my arms.

The moment I stepped out of the back room, Julian and Chloe blocked my path.

Julian looked down at the painting in my arms, his brow furrowing in disgust. "Twelve million for this piece of trash? Scarlett Sanders, your taste is getting worse by the day. A cheap thing like this isn't even worthy of being my birthday present. But since you've shown such sincerity, I suppose I can reluctantly accept it."

With that, he reached out to grab the painting.

I took a sharp step back, evading his hand, and clutched the painting tightly against my chest as if guarding a priceless treasure.

"You've misunderstood." I looked at him, my gaze as cold as if I were looking at an absolute fool. "This painting isn't a birthday gift for you."

Julian's hand froze mid-air, his expression instantly darkening into a scowl.

"Not for me?" He narrowed his eyes, a dangerous chill radiating from him.

Chloe immediately chimed in, "Oh my, Julian, if Ms. Sanders didn't buy it for you, then who did she buy it for? Could it be for the man who got her pregnant? Using Julian's money to support another man... Ms. Sanders is truly generous, isn't she?"

"Shut up!" I snapped, glaring at Chloe.

But those words had already ignited Julian's jealousy and rage.

"Not giving it to me? Then don't even dream of giving it to anyone else!"

Julian lunged forward, violently snatching the painting from my arms.

"No! Julian, give it back!" I screamed in terror, desperately clawing to get it back.

But a man's physical strength was far too much for me. Julian pinned me down with one hand, and with the other, gripped the edge of the canvas and ripped it apart without a shred of hesitation!

*Riiip—*

The sturdy canvas was torn clean in half.

The sunflowers left behind by my mother were instantly torn to pieces, ruined.

I froze on the spot, all sound choking in my throat, leaving nothing but a desperate, dead silence. I stared blankly at the ruined canvas fluttering to the floor. The last spark of light in my eyes died completely.