Chapter 2: Eye-Catching

Ava's heart surged with complex emotions, leaving her momentarily at a loss for words.

She slowly turned her head to look at Liam.

He rarely smiled, but when he did, it was breathtaking—like a spring breeze brushing past. His deep, clear eyes resembled a brilliant galaxy in the night sky.

He was about to reunite with his true love. He must be overjoyed at this moment.

Ava forced a faint smile, but it barely concealed the shards of her broken heart.

"I wish you happiness too." With those words, she turned and got into the car.

The car door clicked shut, and tears spilled from her eyes instantly. New wounds piled upon old scars, twisting inside her like a relentless agony that made her want to curl up into a ball.

The driver lifted her suitcase into the trunk, then took his seat and started the engine.

As the car drove away, the smile on Liam's lips gradually faded, and the light in his eyes dimmed bit by bit.

—Back home.

Ava dragged her suitcase over the threshold.

Seeing her red, swollen eyes and the luggage in her hand, Susan was stunned. "Sweetheart, what happened?"

Ava lowered her head to change shoes, trying to remain calm. "I've moved back."

Susan shot up from the couch. "Did you and Liam break up?"

"Yeah, his ex-girlfriend came back."

Hearing this, Susan instantly flared with rage. "Three years ago, Liam was in a terrible car accident. The doctors said he might be in a wheelchair for life, and that woman left him without hesitation! It was you who stayed by his side, who found him the best rehabilitation therapists, took him to physical therapy, pushed him to train again and again, endured every moment of pain and hope with him. Now he can walk again, and that woman just waltzes back, and he chooses her? Is he out of his mind?"

Ava bent down, pulled a check from her suitcase, and handed it to her mother. "This is his compensation."

Susan glanced down at it and immediately widened her eyes—so many zeros that her heart trembled. She counted: eight zeros in total!

Her expression softened slightly, but she remained furious. "But this isn't about money! No matter how rich he is, he can't treat you like this!"

Ava lowered her gaze and said quietly, "Some men give nothing when they divorce, some even go so far as to kill their wives to avoid splitting assets. Compared to that, Liam is at least being fair."

"But are you really willing to let it go just like that?"

Ava gave a bitter smile. "What else can I do? Make a scene? Cry? Threaten my life? What would that change? His heart is no longer with me. Forcing him to stay would be meaningless. Mom, I'm exhausted. I just want to rest."

"Go ahead." Susan watched her daughter, sighing with heartache.

This child—too sensible, too sensible it hurt.

Ava slept for two days and two nights.

Susan checked on her frequently, making sure she was still breathing steadily.

In truth, Ava's sleep was restless. Her entire body felt weak, she had no appetite, and she lacked the energy to move. It was as if a part of her heart had been carved out, leaving her lost in darkness.

—On the third day, she finally got up, washed up, and dialed Liam's number.

"Is the divorce agreement ready? When are we signing?"

The other end was silent for a moment. "I'm on a business trip. We'll do it when I get back."

"Alright. I'm starting work now. Let me know when you're back."

"You found a job? Where?" His voice carried a hint of concern.

"An art gallery and antique shop. They've wanted me to join for a while."

"Don't push yourself too hard. If you ever need money, just tell me." His voice was deep and gentle, like a melody under the moonlight, making her heart clench painfully.

Ava's fingertips trembled slightly, but her tone remained distant. "I don't need it, but thanks."

After breakfast, Ava hailed a taxi to Trevi Art Gallery.

The owner, Ryan, greeted her.

He wore a light blue shirt and khaki pants, his tall frame exuding an air of refined elegance.

After introducing her to the staff downstairs, Ryan took her upstairs to meet the gallery's senior art appraiser, Mr. Thompson.

"Mr. Thompson, this is Ava. She studied under the renowned 'art restoration master' Ethan Clement. She specializes in oil painting restoration, particularly works from the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. From today, she will be our restoration expert. If you have any questions or need a second opinion, feel free to ask her."

Thompson adjusted his reading glasses and studied her carefully.

A young woman in her early twenties, introduced as an expert in restoration?

At his age, he had still been an apprentice, yet this girl was supposed to be someone he should consult?

He nodded politely, but deep down, he remained skeptical.

Just then, a staff member rushed upstairs.

"A customer brought in an oil painting and wants to know if we can restore it."

Ava and Thompson went downstairs.

The customer, a man in his thirties, was holding a badly damaged oil painting.

Thompson took one look and frowned slightly.

The canvas was torn in multiple places, the paint peeling, the surface blackened and wrinkled, even showing mold spots.

Damage of this extent could only be salvaged by the best restoration experts.

He cast a meaningful glance at Ava, the corners of his mouth curling into a barely perceptible smirk. "Ava, this is your stage. Don't let us down."

Ava took the painting and examined it carefully. "It can be restored."

The customer's eyes lit up. "Who will do it? How long will it take?"

"Me. Three days."

"You?" The man scrutinized her, his face full of doubt. "This is an authentic nineteenth-century piece worth millions at auction. Are you sure you won't ruin it?"

The others in the shop also looked skeptical. Three days? Impossible.

Thompson let out a dry chuckle. "Ava, young people should be cautious with their words. A piece like this, even in the hands of the top experts in the field, would take months, even a year. Don't be reckless."

Ava remained composed. "Three days. If I ruin it, I'll compensate double its market value."

The customer immediately agreed. "Alright! Let's sign a contract."

Once the agreement was settled, Ava took the painting into the restoration room.

She expertly prepared the cleaning solution, adjusted the lighting, and carefully began cleaning the surface of the canvas.

Three days later, the customer returned to the gallery.

When the restored painting was unveiled, everyone was stunned—the image was crisp and vibrant, the colors layered with depth, as if it had traveled through time back to its original glory.

The customer was in disbelief. "This… is this really the same painting?"

Even Thompson was frozen in place, secretly shaken.

That evening, Ava's phone rang.

Hearing the familiar voice, her heart trembled.

She checked the time. "It's getting dark. The courthouse is closed. Let's go in the morning."

Liam was silent for a moment. "Grandma wants to see us. It's urgent."