Chapter 23
In the third year after Samantha and Lionel’s marriage, Sanel Design Studio had grown into one of the top haute couture brands in the country.
The couple ran the studio together, and their lives were happy and fulfilling.
The morning sunlight streamed through the windows of their apartment. Samantha stood in the walk-in closet, running her fingers over rows of gowns that she had arranged by color.
Each one of them had been designed by Lionel for her daily wear, with the occasion and date carefully noted.
“Meeting the Frandalian clients today?” Lionel stepped up behind her and rested his chin lightly on her hair. In his hands were two sets of jewelry for her to choose from.
She had once given such thoughtful care to someone else, but now, she was finally cherished in the same
way.
In front of Wright Corporation’s headquarters, a court letter flapped in the wind.
Due to poor management, Wright Corporation had finally declared bankruptcy. Harry didn’t even say a word as he witnessed the collapse of his once-proud business empire.
He squatted on the curb across the street with his expensive suit that was already fraying at the seams. Yet, the cigarette in his hand was not lit.
The pain of late-stage stomach cancer forced him to hunch over. The doctor had already warned him that his lungs could no longer take the strain.
Harry’s phone screen lit up with the bank’s final message. “All your assets have been frozen.”
Looking up, he saw the massive billboard on the luxury mall across the street. On it, Samantha was
wearing a gown of her own design, looking radiant beneath the Sanel brand logo.
Once, she had been his wife. She would iron all his clothes and make him soup to soothe his stomach. Now, she stood in a bright place that was filled with glory, not even sparing him a glance.
Harry knew it was what he deserved. Even if he regretted it now, there was nothing he could do but accept it.
Meanwhile, in a cramped, low-rent apartment in the city’s outskirts, Lydia was smearing on cheap lipstick
in front of a mirror.
Photos cut from magazines were taped to the glass, and all of them were of Samantha receiving awards.
“That bitch…” she spat between clenched teeth, snapping the lipstick in half.
Those expired cosmetics on her desk were the last valuables she owned. Her reputation had been destroyed after the flood of online scandals, and she could no longer survive in the industry.
At that moment, the doorbell rang. The landlord was standing outside with two police officers.
“Ms. Yeager, you’re suspected of defamation. We need you to come with us.”
Samantha tried to slam the door shut in a panic, but they blocked it. All she could do was back away in
fear. “Stay back!”
A fashion news segment was playing on the TV. “Sanel founder, Ms. Samantha Knott, has announced the
creation of the Designer Assistance Fund to support women in hardship…”
Lydia suddenly burst into laughter, which slowly turned into sobs.
She finally understood. Retribution might come late, but it would come all the same.
In the Meran Islands, the sunset painted the sea red as Samantha leaned against Lionel’s shoulder.
“What are you thinking about?” He brushed a strand of hair from her face, and the wedding ring on his finger glowed warmly in the dusk.
Samantha looked into the distance, and memories flashed before her eyes. She recalled her lonely death in a hospital bed in her past life, the family portrait she had seen upon her rebirth at the airport, and the
trembling of her hand as she signed the divorce papers.
This time, she was finally living for herself.
“It’s nothing…” Samantha turned and hugged Lionel, burying her face in the crook of his neck.
After they returned home, the studio received an unmarked package. Inside was a rare, out-of-print
collection and a beautifully bound photo album.
On the first page was a photo of her when she was 20 years old. As Samantha turned the pages, she found clippings from every public appearance she had made over the years. They were of her accepting awards, giving interviews, and even candid shots taken on the street.
Each of them was carefully dated. Some even had short notes on them, such as, “This hairstyle suits you”
or “You look a bit tired here”.
The last few pages were blank, except for a single sticky note on the final page. “The remaining space is
you and him to fill together. I’m sorry I failed you.”
for
Even without a signature, they both knew who it was from.
Lionel wrapped his arms around Samantha from behind. “Do you want to contact him?”
Samantha shook her head and placed the album on the highest shelf of the bookcase. “It’s best to end this story here.”
Lionel looked at her with endless warmth in his eyes.
