Chapter 1
After five years of marriage, Adrian Hart brought the new intern home.
He said she was only staying for a few days because it would make the exhibition easier to manage.
But that night, I heard two people’s muffled moans coming from the guest room.
I took out the walnut box that held ninety-nine love letters.
Adrian had written them before we got married, back when he stood in the winter night until his hands turned red from the cold, looking at me with so much love.
“Grace, I’m giving you ninety-nine chances to change your mind.”
Later, I changed the rule.
Every time he hurt me because of Serena Blake, I would destroy one letter.
When all ninety-nine were gone, I would leave.
And now, only three were left.
Grace Parker POV
Tonight was the anniversary of Adrian Hart’s proposal to me, and it was also the preview day for the restoration exhibition of my mother Evelyn Hayes’s final works.
But right now, the woman standing in front of the main display stage and accepting the media interview was someone else.
Serena Blake wore a white dress, with the curator badge Adrian had given her pinned to her chest, and she smiled shyly.
“I’m just an ordinary intern, and I’m grateful Mr. Hart gave me this opportunity. Miss Parker shouldn’t mind, right? After all, art belongs to more people.”
That one “Miss Parker” lightly stripped away my position as Mrs. Hart.
Across half the exhibition hall, Adrian looked at me on the second floor, and he frowned slightly, as if warning me not to make a scene.
I did not make a scene.
I turned and went back to the lounge, then opened the walnut box that held ninety-nine love letters.
Adrian had written them before we got married, back when he stood in the winter night until his hands turned red from the cold, looking at me with so much love.
“Grace, I’m giving you ninety-nine chances to change your mind.”
Later, I changed the rule.
Every time he hurt me because of Serena Blake, I would destroy one letter.
When all ninety-nine were gone, I would leave.
The paper shredder hummed, and scraps of paper fell into the clear jar like snow.
The lounge door was pushed open, and Adrian walked in with a dark expression.
“Why didn’t you go onstage just now?”
I looked at him.
“Those are my mother’s paintings, but her name is on the main screen.”
Adrian pressed his fingers against his brow, sounding completely justified.
“Serena has no background, and it wasn’t easy for her to get this far. You’re Mrs. Hart, and you can hold as many exhibitions as you want. Why do you have to argue with an intern?”
Right on time, a sob came from outside the door, and Serena stood at the entrance with red eyes.
“Miss Parker, I’m sorry. I’ll go remove my name right now, so please don’t fight with Mr. Hart…”
“No one told you to remove it!”
Adrian immediately turned around to shield her, then looked at me coldly.
“Do you see that? She’s already being this careful. How far are you going to push her?”
I lowered my head and calmly closed the clear jar.
The ninety-second letter.
Seven left.
I was too tired to continue such pointless arguments, so I casually opened the replay of the exhibition hall livestream and saved Serena’s speech and Adrian’s silent approval frame by frame as records.
In the past, I had always been afraid that keeping evidence would be too embarrassing, but now I understood that love held together by pretending to be blind was better shattered sooner.
Outside the door, Adrian was softly comforting Serena, telling her, “It’s not your fault.”
I leaned against the door and tugged at the corner of my mouth.
Yes, it was not her fault.
He had not said those words to his own wife in a very long time.
The next day was the memorial day for my mother, Evelyn Hayes.
Adrian had promised long ago that he would go to the restoration studio with me to handle her final works, but I waited until ten in the morning and only received one sentence from his assistant.
“Mr. Hart had to go to the Emerging Arts Center at the last minute.”
When I called him, the person who answered was Serena.
“Miss Parker, Mr. Hart is helping me adjust the lighting, and his phone is with me.”
The background was full of noise and laughter, and Serena’s voice sounded timid.
“Today is my first time independently setting up an exhibition, and he’s afraid I’ll get nervous, so he can’t leave. Could you look for him later?”
My eyes turned cold, and I hung up directly.
In the restoration studio, my mother’s former student, Julian Hayes, accompanied me as I organized the old drafts, and we wore gloves while carefully handling the yellowed pages.
Adrian finally arrived when it was almost dark.
The moment he saw Julian, Adrian’s brows immediately knitted together.
“Why is he here? You didn’t answer my calls all day because you were with him?”
“Did you call me?”
I asked back coldly.
Adrian choked, clearly remembering that his phone had been with Serena, but he showed no guilt at all.
“Serena had a lot of problems at the exhibition hall. I couldn’t possibly leave her there alone! You had a professional restorer here with you, so wasn’t that fine?”
Julian closed the notebook, his voice calm.
“Mr. Hart, Professor Hayes’s memorial day only comes once a year.”
“This is our family matter, and it’s not your place to interfere!”
Adrian’s face turned icy.
I put the restoration forms into my bag and turned to Julian.
“Please take me to the gallery.”
Adrian’s eyes darkened to the extreme in an instant, but he could not stop me.
After I returned to the gallery, the ninety-third love letter turned into scraps.
The sound of shredding paper was very soft, just like the sound promises made when they broke.
Julian’s parting words echoed in my mind.
“Professor Hayes once said that what artwork fears most is not damage, but being randomly repaired by people who don’t understand it.”
I understood.
Paintings were like that, and so were people.