ManyWriters

As the world's top hand model, my delicate hands were captivating on camera, graceful as a swan in flight.
A wealthy heir fell in love with me because of my hands, marrying me into high society and treating me like a precious gem.
But Vivienne, his childhood sweetheart who had always held a torch for him, became insanely jealous. She went as far as cutting off my hands and transplanting her own in their place.
From that moment on, not only did she become the most sought-after hand model, but she also caused Dane to despise my now rough hands and cast me aside, intending to marry her instead.
However, at the next World Hand Modeling Competition, when my newly refined and even more elegant hands made their appearance, Vivienne, who was acting as a judge, was left dumbfounded.
The once arrogant wealthy heir, desperate for me to grant him even a slap across the face, willingly knelt before the entire world...

Wife's perfect hands

At this moment, Vivienne seized the opportunity, feigning nonchalance,


Her hand gently caressed from Dane's cheek to his neck, and finally began to explore downward.


With this, Dane immediately lost control of his emotions.


I closed my eyes in despair, because I knew all too well that during our usual encounters, as soon as my hand touched his body,


It would always lead to a frenzy, until we were both utterly exhausted.


Sure enough, Dane eagerly scooped Vivienne up into his arms. Before turning to leave, he coldly tossed a sentence at me:


"Neve, since you're so lazy that you can't even protect your own hands, you're not worthy of being my wife.


I'll have someone draft up divorce papers for you. Now take those filthy hands of yours and get out. Don't pollute my eyes any longer!"


Soon after, Vivienne's deliberately high-pitched voice and Dane's heavy breathing could be heard from inside.


"Dane, you're amazing... I finally... got what I wanted..."


Hearing this, I was suddenly struck as if by lightning—


Could it be that for the past three years, all Dane ever loved was just my hands?


Three years ago, I won the World Hand Modeling Championship, attracting countless attention overnight.The media unanimously praised me for combining a stunning face with God-given hands, calling me a once-in-a-century dark horse in the hand modeling world.


The eldest son of the Stratton Group, the country's wealthiest family, cornered me backstage after I received my award. With a slight smirk, he lifted my chin.


"I've seen countless beauties, yet none compare to you. Your rare perfection, only I can truly appreciate.


Would you care to join me at the Stratton mansion, where I'll protect you for life?"


As an orphan, how could I resist the allure of someone offering to shield me from life's storms?


Especially since this wealthy heir was nationally known for his propriety and disinterest in women.


I nodded eagerly, like a pecking bird, afraid to miss out on a man who seemed to genuinely care for me.


Looking back now, I realize how naive and laughable I was then.


Dane wasn't disinterested in women; those women simply didn't meet his hand fetish aesthetic.


And I, always fiercely independent, had stooped to servicing him with my hands just to receive a façade of love and care.


With my still-clumsy hands, I dragged my meager belongings, disappearing like a stray dog into the Christmas Eve night, illuminated by bursting fireworks.


But I knew who to turn to—Soren, my childhood friend from the orphanage who had always loved me.Taking Soren's simple luggage, his eyes filled with sympathy as he glanced at my rough hands.


With that, he retreated back into his lab.


He had always been a loner since childhood, not fond of conversation.


In this dilapidated urban village shack, the fresh bedding on the only bed and the steaming tortellini on the table were likely the best hospitality he could offer.


Soren had shown promise in biology from a young age. In college, his talent was recognized, and he was sponsored to pursue a medical doctorate.


His future seemed bright, but his insistence on researching controversial human subjects sparked ethical debates. Public opinion turned against him, and he became a pariah in the industry.


I spent a sleepless night on that unfamiliar, cramped bed. Early the next morning, Uncle Lincoln, the Stratton family driver, delivered divorce papers.


"Neve, when did you become such a manipulative bitch?


Deliberately staying in that rat hole to make me feel sorry for you?"


Chapter 2