Misdirected Vengeance

The crystal chandelier in the villa shone with a blinding glare. I sat on the sofa, my fingertips clutching the ice-cold glass. On the television screen, Zane Frank's wedding was being broadcast live. He stood at the end of the red carpet, dressed in a white suit. The bride, Wendy Churchill, linked arms with her father; the tiny diamonds on her gown shimmered. The look in Zane's eyes as he gazed at her was a tenderness I had never witnessed before. For eight years, I had been his captive cultural relic appraiser, the so-called "canary" he kept. He once told me that my hands, skilled in appraisal, were more precious than any jewel. Yet now, those very hands gently intertwined with Wendy's fingers. The camera zoomed in, and Wendy's smile shone with a rare brilliance. I remembered how she had betrayed Zane three times before, and each time, he forgave her without hesitation. My chest felt as if pierced by countless needles, aching unbearably. I sprang to my feet, knocking the vase off the coffee table. The water seeped across the carpet, but I strode straight toward the study. On the top shelf of the bookcase stood the sculpture of the "Symbiotic Jade." It was the token he had given me eight years ago, saying we were like two halves of jade—each incomplete without the other. I dragged a chair over and violently swept the sculpture to the floor. The sound of jade shattering echoed sharply through the silent villa. My fingertips were sliced by the fractured jade, droplets of blood falling onto the shards. At that moment, the doorbell rang. It was Michael, Zane's assistant. He handed me a document folder, his voice deferential: "Miss Anderson, Mr. Frank said that for next week's cultural relic transaction, they still need you to handle the appraisal." I stood there stunned—he had just married another, yet he still entrusted me with this crucial deal? I took the document folder, my fingers trembling. Inside was an appraisal report on celadon from the porcelain era. Zane never entrusted core matters to outsiders. This wedding might not be as simple as it seems on the surface. I clenched the document folder tightly, droplets of blood seeping into the kraft paper. Doubts in my heart began to grow wildly like tangled vines.