The dressing room lights were harsh.

Sophia Laurent sat quietly before the vanity, allowing the makeup artist to work. She winced slightly as the foundation brush swept across her cheeks.

"Your skin is flawless, Miss Laurent," the artist remarked. "But for an antique appraisal show, shouldn't we make you look more... mature? You're almost too beautiful to be taken seriously."

Sophia lifted her gaze. Almond-shaped eyes reflected clearly in the mirror.

"No need." Her fingers brushed the magnifying glass on the table. "This profession values expertise, not age."

She wore only light makeup.

The ruby chiffon gown made her skin glow like snow. The sleeveless design revealed delicate collarbones that shimmered like pearls under the studio lights.

"Stunning!" The photographer couldn't resist taking extra close-ups.

At first, whispers rippled through the audience about this improbably beautiful appraiser. Then she picked up the first artifact.

"Late Western Zhou Dynasty ritual vessel with beast motifs. Observe the patina and casting seams..." Her clear voice rang out as fingertips traced the bronze edges.

The room gradually hushed.

When the finale piece—Auspicious Cranes—was unveiled, elderly experts scrambled for reading glasses. Eighteen white cranes posed dynamically against pale celadon, their feathers rendered in exquisite detail.

"Undoubtedly authentic," declared Professor Albert Roscente, his white hair gleaming.

Sophia shook her head.

"My reproduction at fifteen." Her earlobes pinkened. "I forgot to add the artist's seal."

The studio erupted.

Backstage lighting dimmed in the corridor. Kyle Grant's fingers brushed hers when offering mineral water.

"You were exceptional," he murmured.

The cool liquid down her throat brought clarity. "Grandfather trained me with masterpieces since childhood."

"Why the divorce?"

The plastic bottle crumpled in her grip. Midnight tears. The operating table's chill. Jack Anderson's blood—all lodged in her windpipe.

"Exhaustion." That single word escaped.

Kyle's hand hovered midair before retreating.

"Sophia."

That voice made both turn. Ethan Sullivan stood at the corridor's end, his black shirt outlining broad shoulders, crimson roses blazing against his chest.

"Visiting set?" She froze.

In three strides, his suit jacket enveloped her bare shoulders, body heat searing through fabric. "Dressed this scantily?"

Mango Pomelo Sago replaced the water bottle. As rose fragrance enveloped her, she heard her own accelerating heartbeat.

"Thank you for looking after my wife." Ethan's gaze locked onto Kyle.

"We're divorced," Sophia whispered.

His arm tightened around her waist. "Then thank you for entertaining my girlfriend." Possession dripped from his tone. "The remarriage is imminent."

When Kyle's silhouette vanished around the corner, Ethan's grip turned vise-like. His darkened eyes remained fixed on that empty space.