Chapter 3

A middle-aged couple holding suitcases and a set of keys stood at the doorway.

The woman, who was quite heavy, squeezed past the door and glared at me with pure rage. "Speak up! Otherwise, we're calling the cops!"

I sneered at her. "Call the cops? Go ahead. I'd love to know who your son is and why he thinks my apartment belongs to him!"

The woman looked confused. She stepped back outside to check the door number, then ran back in. "This is the right place! This is my son's apartment!"

"Mandy, stop talking to him! He's definitely a thief!" the man yelled. "Look at what he's holding. That jewelry box looks incredibly expensive!"

Mandy's eyes locked onto the small box in my hand. In an instant, she flew into a rage, rushing toward me like a hurricane and raising her hand.

Slap!

She slapped me hard across the face, her sharp acrylic nails scratching my cheek.

"You worthless thief! How dare you steal my daughter-in-law's jewelry! Do you even know who she is? She's the CEO of Miller Enterprises!"

My head spun from the force of the slap, and the taste of blood filled my mouth. Before I could recover, the man punched me hard in the stomach. I doubled over in pain, and another punch landed squarely on my face.

Mandy kicked my suitcase over, sending my clothes scattering across the floor.

"Let's see what else this filthy thief has stolen from our family!"

"Don't touch my things!" I gasped for air, blood dripping from my lip onto the hardwood floor.

"Oh, you're still talking back? John, call the building security! What kind of luxury apartment complex is this? Letting thieves wander around!"

"Mandy, let's call our son first. He needs to know his place was broken into!"

Over the past few weeks, I had barely eaten or slept while taking care of my dad. I was physically exhausted and running a fever. If I had been in my normal state, there was no way these two could have overpowered me so easily.

Looking at my battered state, the couple laughed triumphantly. While waiting for Chloe to arrive, they began going through the apartment, throwing my things around.

"Who bought this ugly painting? It's trash. Throw it out!" John said, picking up a framed painting from the wall.

My eyes widened in terror. "Don't touch that!"

"You piece of trash, you don't get to speak!" John barked, stepping forward and grinding his dirty shoe into my face.

"Don't throw it away! I told you, I am the owner of this house!" I growled through gritted teeth, my face swelling and throbbing with pain. My words were slurred from the blood in my mouth.

"Oh, please! Are you delusional? Do you think just anyone can get as lucky as my son and marry a billionaire? Look at yourself in the mirror. Do you think you're worthy of a woman like Chloe?"

The next second, he cleared his throat and spat a thick glob of phlegm right onto my face.

"Ew, John, that's disgusting. Don't let our daughter-in-law see that when she gets here," Mandy complained.

John sneered, took his foot off my face, and picked up the painting again, walking toward the balcony. I dragged my battered body across the floor, limping after him, desperate to save the painting.

"You want this so badly?" John smirked, rubbing his chin with a wicked grin.

"Kneel and beg me."

I clenched my teeth.

If... if it meant getting the painting back safely...

But he had no intention of keeping his word. The moment I moved, he raised the painting high above his head and slammed it hard against the floor.

"No!" I screamed, my voice cracking with agony.

The protective glass shattered into a million pieces. He picked up the canvas from the ruins and ripped it right down the middle, tearing it to shreds.

That was the last painting my grandmother ever made before she passed away. She had left it for me, telling me to give it to my future wife.

My grandmother was a renowned artist. Her paintings were priceless.

All the strength drained from my body. I collapsed onto the floor in utter despair.

Suddenly, the bright headlights of a car illuminated the driveway outside.

"Ethan!"