I made an excuse to wash up and retreated to the bathroom to check my phone.

Sure enough, there was news.

The headline read: [Century Wedding: The director of Primewave Group marries the second daughter of Brooks Jewels.]

Flipping through the photos of extravagant gifts, grand banquets, and exquisite meals, I suddenly realized Jameson's comeback was far easier than I'd imagined.

I opened the door and walked out.

Jameson was dressed in a simple white trench coat and had prepared lunch. "Let's eat."

I noticed that this seemingly unremarkable trench coat was also from a prestigious brand.

Jameson never bothered to hide his wealth from me. I had just been blind for too long.

I sat down, staring at the food, but didn't dare to ask too many questions. It felt like saying anything might shatter the peaceful moment.

After a long hesitation, I finally asked, "Jameson, are we getting married?"

There was a brief silence.

Jameson remained calm and said slowly, "A certificate doesn't mean much. Even if we don't get married, we'll still be together."

Jameson didn't stay long. A phone call hurriedly called him away.

Before he left, he said, "Ariana, I will transfer some money to you. Take the afternoon off and go shopping or relax."

After he left, I opened my bank account.

He transferred me three thousand dollars.

Although Jameson was generous with daily expenses, he rarely made large transfers to me. My impression of him was still stuck in the days when he was bankrupt. Until that luxurious wedding, it felt like a slap in the face.

I accepted the money and went to work that afternoon.

My supervisor, Tessa Lane, looked relieved when she saw me. "I thought you might have taken a day off. A client specifically asked for you."

I work as a conservator at a well-known private studio.

Although the work was tedious, the pay was decent.

Most of my money was saved up for buying a house.

I sat at my workbench, and someone handed me a painting of flowers and birds from the Aurelian Dynasty. "It was hanging in the study, and it got wet because the window wasn't closed. Can it be repaired?"

I examined it carefully and replied, "It can be repaired."

The person's voice was gentle. When I looked up, I saw a familiar face.

The first time I saw her was at her wedding. She was Sophie Brooks.

I suddenly felt ashamed as memories I had tried to ignore stirred up in my mind.