Chapter 27
Anathea felt as if her heart might burst from anxiety. She was shivering, though she didn’t know if it was because of the cold.
The next second, Gregory wordlessly tossed the towel on her, then grabbed his clothes and headed straight for the bathroom.
It wasn’t until the bathroom door clicked shut that Anathea snapped out of her daze. She let out a breath of relief. Wrapping the
towel around herself, she stood up slowly and changed into her pajamas.
The sound of running water from the bathroom prompted her to glance at the tightly shut door. Indecipherable emotions
flickered in her eyes. Was Gregory planning to stay the night?
She didn’t dwell on it. It didn’t matter where he slept. It had nothing to do with her.
Anathea used to wait for him in their bedroom and greet him at the door when he arrived home. She’d take the jacket he shrugged
off and hug it close, then run him a bath. Doing all of that had given her a sense of belonging and reaffirmed her role as Gregory’s
wife.
But since the day she’d caught a whiff of rose perfume on the jacket he’d shrugged off and flung at her, she’d stopped wanting to
help him take his jacket. She felt like she was touching filth.
Anathea lifted the duvet and climbed into bed. She flipped through the catalog showing the winners of the recent International
Floristry Competition.
The organizer made it a point to compile the best and winning works showcased during every competition into a catalog for those
who wished to pick up floristry arts. As such, each issue of the catalogs bore different works.
However, the first arrangement showcased in the catalog had remained in the same spot for the last five years. It had been
curated by a young floral designer five years ago, and upon their participation in the competition, they’d won several big awards
for their floral arrangement and broken industrial records that had dated back at least a hundred years.
The floral design had also broken the long–running curse that had plagued the competition–that no design would ever win gold.
Anathea brushed her fingertips over the photo of the winning design. Most of the floral arrangements used fresh blooms that
would wilt over time, making photos the only way to immortalize them.
However, the design on the first page of the catalog was carefully stored in a glass dome pumped full of special gas.
For five years, the flowers had remained as beautiful as the day they’d bloomed. The floral arrangement had become an artistic
masterpiece worthy of praise and admiration.
More interestingly, the arrangement had once been auctioned for 200 million dollars. Now that the quality of recent floral
designs had taken a hit and gone downhill, the first–place arrangement was known as the “Swansong“, and its value had only
gone up.
Alas, the floral designer behind the arrangement chose not to sell it. They’d gone under the radar since creating the stunning
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Chapter 27:
work five years ago, and no one had heard from them since.
+15 Bonus
The designer was like a dazzling star–burning bright and outshining the other stars in the night sky, only to fall and vanish
afterward.
After reading the last page of the catalog, Anathea checked the time. She made it a point to go to bed and wake up early. Setting the catalog aside, she turned off the lights. She was about to ease under the covers when the lights were switched on.
She blinked in confusion.
“Did you do it on purpose?” Gregory asked sullenly as he left the bathroom.
Right. Anathea had forgotten he was still around. She muttered an apology and scooted under the covers.
Gregory’s brows furrowed. He towel–dried his hair and padded to the bedside. When he noted the way Anathea had bundled
herself up with the blanket like a burrito, he snorted derisively.
He leaned forward, and Anathea tightened her grip on the blanket she’d wrapped around her when she sensed him drawing
closer. The next second, there was a thud. He’d turned off the lamp on the nightstand.
The room was immediately plunged into darkness, leaving only the moon’s faint, silver rays as the only source of light as they
filtered through the curtains.
Gregory straightened up and rounded the bed to get to the other side. He lifted the corner of the duvet and eased under the heavy
fabric, then stopped moving altogether.
Anathea finally let go of the blanket and opened her eyes, only to be greeted by the darkness around her.
Gregory had told her he’d settle the score with her once he got home, but from the sound of his even breathing, she reckoned he was asleep. She presumed he’d forgotten about picking a fight with her over what had happened to Natalie.
She heaved a furtive sigh of relief. As things were, she’d have to scrounge up three million dollars as soon as possible to pay for
her mother’s surgery. That way, she could leave before Gregory recalled the events from earlier and made her pay.
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