I had planned to wait quietly in a corner for my husband to arrive, not wanting to get drawn into the gossip and rumors these people were spreading.

But someone recognized me anyway. He pointed at me and exclaimed to the crowd, "Hey, look! Isn't this Isabella Spencer?"

Everyone turned to look at me. There I was, standing alone in the corner, dressed plainly, completely out of place among the well-dressed crowd in suits and formal attire.

Seeing my outfit and how I was standing off to the side by myself, they started mocking me. But I ignored them and stood up straight, head held high, to preserve my dignity.

When Samuel noticed me, he waved me over. However, I smiled and politely declined.

The crowd walked up to me, looking me up and down with nothing but ridicule in their eyes. They chattered noisily, speculating about why I was even here.

"I bet Isabella is still hopelessly obsessed with Sam. She'd been following him all this while, so of course she had to show up at today's art exhibition."

"Look at how she's dressed. She's probably short on cash and wants Sam to throw her some spare change."

Samuel walked up to me and said, "Isabella, I know you're still hung up on me. But come on, you don't have to keep following me around like this, do you? It's been seven years. It's time for you to forget about me."

Before I could even respond, Sienna looked at me with open disgust and commented, "People are always saying that Samuel has many desperate women who are obsessed with him. I guess now I've finally seen one in person."

Her tone turned nasty, and her voice rose a full octave. "Hey! This isn't the kind of place for someone like you. This is the biggest art exhibition in the city, attended only by high society. We don't want it looking cheap because of people like you."

Hearing her insulting words, I fought hard to suppress the anger rising in me.

The crowd joined in, putting on airs. "That's right. I heard that Mr. Frederick Dalton, the city's wealthiest tycoon, is coming today too. He's usually so mysterious that ordinary people rarely get to see him. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity!"

Samuel put on a kind, understanding act in front of everyone and said to me earnestly, "Isabella, if you're in need, just tell me. I can give you however much money you need. Just don't cause a scene at my exhibition, alright?"

What a joke that was! I had only come for a casual look around, yet he was making it sound as though I was begging for handouts.

I kept a polite smile, still upholding my dignity. After all, there was no point in wasting words on people like these.

Sienna scanned me with a scornful look and sneered, "You really need to stop chasing after Samuel. He's a famous artist now, and he's marrying me next month.

"Look at how ugly you're dressed. You can't even be bothered to tidy yourself up. What man would ever want you? Anyway, I happen to have some clothes I no longer need. I can have someone bring them to you later."

At her words, the whole crowd burst into raucous laughter.

Sienna was wearing an exquisite gown, carrying a branded bag, and her hair was perfectly curled. It must have cost her a fortune just to style herself that day.

As for me, I had come straight from home without even washing my hair. After all, I'd thought that this was just an ordinary art exhibition, one where I could browse and pick out some paintings to buy like one would pick out produce at a market.

Because of that, I hadn't bothered to dress up at all and was wearing simple loungewear, which naturally couldn't compare to her elegant gown.

"Oh, no, that's alright. You should keep them for yourself," I replied politely.

But she refused to let it go. "Oh, don't be shy. You had no shame in chasing Samuel all the way here to the exhibition, but now you're acting all embarrassed about accepting a few clothes?"

The crowd erupted in another wave of roaring laughter.

Even with all my composure, the sight of them laughing and mocking me made my expression darken. I wiped the smile off my face and looked at these people with a slightly stern expression.

Just then, Samuel hurried over and shoved a bank card into my hand.

"I've got several tens of thousands on this bank card. Get yourself some decent clothes with it. The password is my birthday. You still remember it, don't you? Take the money and leave the exhibition right now. Don't embarrass me in front of the big shots."

It had been seven years. Ever since I walked away from him at graduation, I had wiped him completely from my memory, let alone remembered his birthday.

All of a sudden, he leaned close to me and whispered, "I know you're still deeply in love with me. But don't bring what happened in the past life into this one. I have my own life now, and you should go find your own happiness."

I lifted my head and stared at him, observing how foolishly naive he was.

In my past life, I had gotten married to him straight out of college.

After that, he started chasing his dream of becoming an artist, but kept hitting dead ends because no one wanted his paintings. I stayed by his side without ever giving up, using the money I made from writing novels to support his artistic ambitions.

As time went on, he grew increasingly dejected and began staying home all day. He never earned a single cent and just kept fantasizing about becoming a famous artist. He even drained every last penny of the savings I had set aside for our future child.

Later, when he wanted me to buy him an expensive set of paints, and I turned him down because we couldn't afford it, he flew into a rage and beat me.

Then, he had the nerve to say, "You know what? If I had married Sienna back then, I wouldn't be stuck living this miserable life with you. You're the one who ruined my dream of being an artist!"

He stopped painting altogether and spent his days drinking at home. I would cry quietly in the middle of the night because of how much he had changed. The passionate, aspiring artist I once knew was gone.

He blamed all of his failures on me for forcing him into marriage, saying, "Every artist was held back by marriage. If it weren't for you, I would already be a famous artist."

In our years of marriage, he refused to have a child with me and wouldn't even touch me. Then one day, he flew off to find Sienna, and the plane crash took both of our lives.

But when death came, I felt no fear. Instead, I felt an immense sense of relief. At last, I was free from his pressure and constant insults.

Then, after we were both reborn, we never bothered each other again. We went our separate ways, owing each other nothing and never interfering with each other's lives.

I silently pushed away the bank card he offered and looked straight into his eyes. "No thanks. I don't take things from strangers."

Samuel's eyes widened in disbelief. "What did you just say, Isabella? Everyone knows you were obsessed with me back in college!"

Unable to stay silent any longer, I shot back, "Don't be ridiculous. Back in college, you used to secretly paint a portrait of me every single day. You said you would never forget what I looked like for the rest of your life."

Samuel's face instantly flushed red. He pointed at me and roared, "Stop making things up, Isabella! You were the one who was obsessed with me! You made all of that up in your head! You claim I painted you every day? Well, where's the proof?"

After I decided to leave Samuel for good, I threw away everything related to him. All the paintings he had given me were burned to ashes.

Sienna chimed in from the side, "Stop slandering him. With the way you look, do you think Sam would ever be interested in you? If you can't produce the evidence, then stop spreading rumors!"

The crowd nodded in agreement.

In terms of appearance, I was in no way inferior to Sienna. It was just that what I was wearing that day hid my appearance, giving Sienna the upper hand.

After everyone finished gossiping, a man actually stepped forward and shamelessly reached out to grope me. "Say, you don't exactly look ugly. Here's the deal—you make me happy today, and I'll make sure you're well rewarded. After all, a desperate young lady like you is only good for one thing anyway."

I immediately slapped his hand away and glared at him fiercely. Rejected, he flew into a humiliated rage and lunged at me.

Fortunately, Samuel yelled at him sharply, "Stop it! Mr. Dalton will be arriving soon. I don't want him walking in and seeing such a scene!"

Only then did the man reluctantly back off, shooting me a provocative look as he did so.

Samuel went on, "The painting that Mr. Dalton has his eyes on is one I poured my heart and soul into for many years. It's the largest piece here."

Then, he pointed at the large painting covered with a white cloth. A complicated emotion flickered in his eyes as he glanced at me.

Sienna then said, "Mr. Dalton will be here any second. Everyone, quiet down. Don't make fools of yourselves."

The crowd straightened up at once, waiting respectfully for Frederick's arrival.

Just then, a young girl came skipping into the exhibition hall with three bodyguards following closely behind her.

People began whispering among themselves.

"That girl has the air of a rich heiress. She has got to be Mr. Dalton's daughter."

"Exactly. And she has three bodyguards following her! Who else but Mr. Dalton would have that kind of entourage?"

The girl spotted me right away and ran toward me excitedly. She opened her arms and said, "Mommy!"