Sophia's fingertips trembled slightly.

She couldn't bring herself to meet Ethan's gaze, afraid she might break down completely.

"Wishing you happiness," she heard herself say mechanically.

The moment she turned away, tears flooded her cheeks.

Inside the car, shielded from the world, she finally allowed herself to weep silently.

The driver glanced at her through the rearview mirror with concern, silently offering tissues.

The Laurent family villa blazed with light.

Grace was arranging flowers in the living room when she saw her daughter's swollen eyes and luggage. Her scissors clattered to the floor.

"Mom, I'm home," Sophia's voice was feather-light.

"Did that bastard Ethan hurt you?" Grace seized her daughter's hands.

Sophia shook her head. "His ex-girlfriend came back."

"What?" Grace trembled with rage. "Who nursed him day and night when he was paralyzed after that accident? Now that he's recovered, that witch returns!"

Sophia produced a check from her bag. "This is his compensation."

Grace counted the zeros and scoffed. "Ten million? Is that all my daughter's three years are worth?"

"Mom, please." Sophia closed her exhausted eyes. "I need to rest."

She slept for two full days.

On the third morning, Sophia finally emerged.

She dialed Ethan's number. "Is the divorce paperwork ready?"

Silence stretched for several seconds. "I'm on a business trip."

"Fine. I'm going to work then." Her fingers still shook as she ended the call.

Antique Treasures was the city's most prestigious restoration house.

Dr. Julian Evans personally greeted her at the entrance.

"May I present the protégé of Master Laurent," he announced to the gathered experts.

Henry Klein, nearing sixty, adjusted his glasses to scrutinize Sophia.

"Girl, what's the oldest painting you've restored?"

"Fan Kuan's 'Travelers Among Mountains' from the Northern Song Dynasty."

Henry snorted. "Young people should mind their words."

Just then, a client burst in clutching a damaged scroll. "Can this be saved?"

The painting was riddled with wormholes and mold, barely recognizable.

Henry shook his head. "This requires the Palace Museum's expertise."

"I can restore it," Sophia said suddenly. "Three days."

The shop fell silent.

The client eyed her skeptically. "This is an authentic Wang Jian!"

"Sign the contract. If I damage it, I'll pay double." Her quiet voice carried steel.

In the restoration room, Sophia worked with surgical precision—cleaning, remounting, patching, retouching.

Three days later, when the scroll unfurled, the room held its breath.

"This...it's miraculous!" The client stammered in awe.

Henry flushed, then bowed deeply. "Master Laurent, I was blind."

News spread like wildfire through antiquarian circles.

At dusk, Ethan called.

"I'm outside the shop."

Sophia's heart clenched. "Can we visit the registry office tomorrow?"

"Grandmother wants to see us," his voice sounded hoarse. "She says it's urgent."