FakeNovelChapter 40
After her shower, Jessica settled down at the desk and began sketching patterns onto the fabric spread before
her.
She knew the fabric would fray once it was cut, and since she didn't have the right stiffening spray at home,
she'd had a professional at the textile market handle it for her.
At least she wasn't a stranger to crafts-years of helping Henry with his paper- cutting projects had kept her
hands nimble and her lines steady.
Her movements were fluid, almost instinctive.
Still, after that dizzy spell this morning-passing out in the car and ending up in the hospital-she wasn't quite
herself. A dull ache pulsed in her abdomen.
When she'd first heard the diagnosis-cancer-she hadn't believed it. She'd always felt healthy, never had any
pain. The only tshe could recall real discomfort was that one day her stomach hurt so badly she'd gone to
the hospital -and that was when her world shattered.
Life could change in an instant.
The doctor had warned her: if she was feeling pain, it meant things were already serious.
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Ever since then, even the smallest twinge seemed magnified.
She stood up and took a couple of pills, waiting for the pain to subside, then quietly returned to her work.
Ten minutes later, there was a soft chime.
The door opened.
She turned. Timothy had already stepped inside.
Her eyes narrowed, brows drawing tight.
Timothy entered with a chill in his demeanor, dark eyes sweeping across her desk.
Jessica lowered her head, ignoring him, continuing her careful lines on the fabric.
His gaze was cold, his handsface set in indifference.
He had cto her, yet she didn't even acknowledge his presence.
After a moment, he lit a cigarette.
She caught the faint scent of sandalwood, her hand pausing for just a second before she forced herself to keep
working.
He leaned against the wall, silent for a while, then finally spoke, his voice low and gravelly—almost beautiful in
its roughness. "So, how long are you planning to keep running from home?"
Jessica kept her head down.
The only sound in the bedroom was the scratch of her pencil against cloth.
Timothy, irritated by her silence, stubbed out his cigarette, grabbed the pencil from her hand and tossed it onto
the desk. He gripped her chin, forcing her to look at him.
"Are you really going to keep this up?"
Her expression remained soft and distant, yet her eyes glistened with unshed tears.
For a moment, something tightened in Timothy's chest.
He released her jaw.
"The marriage certificate-l spoke to my grandfather. It has nothing to do with you."
From his suit pocket, he produced a velvet box. He took out the ring inside-a brilliant diamond-and slipped it onto
her finger.
The stone sparkled, catching the light.
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Jessica's mind drifted to the past.
He'd always been exceptional-privileged, talented, strikingly handsome, carrying himself with a natural
arrogance that set him apart.
Untouchable. Unreachable.
She could never forget that night when she was sixteen: the streetlights casting golden halos, illuminating him
like skind of deity.
She'd been terrified, barely able to react, when he'd appeared and taken down the bullies surrounding her,
sending them running for their lives.
He'd taken off his overcoat and walked toward her, stepping right into her world.
From that moment on, she'd never been able to look away.
She had foolishly believed that if she just tried hard enough, gave everything she
had, she might one day find a place in his heart.
But someone else had already filled it, long ago.
If Timothy had given her this ring on any day in the past seven years, she would have been overjoyed.
But now, it only made her feel hollow.
She started to remove the ring—only for Timothy to snatch up her phone.
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