“Well, I’ll give you this—it’s a pretty convincing replica. Shame about the glaze though, it's too new. A dead giveaway that it's fake.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Excellent eye, Miss Wright.”

Ironically, it was the only fake item in the house.

But Phoebe thought I was mocking her. Her expression turned even colder.

“Gabriel, I don’t have time to play games with you. Either you repay the five hundred thousand right now and sign these agreements, or the engagement is officially off.”

“If your dream of being a rich househusband shatters, don’t come crying.”

“Oh—and don’t expect me to take care of your parents either. With no retirement pension, I’m not funding their—”

She was abruptly cut off by one of the bodyguards, who leaned in and whispered, “Miss Wright, doesn’t that vase look like the centerpiece from the Sotheby’s auction last week?”

Phoebe froze and turned to where the man was pointing.

It was a Song Dynasty official kiln plum vase—an antique my father had bid on at a Sotheby’s charity auction just because I liked it. He bought it as a gift—for me to play with.

She stared at it for several seconds, her expression shifting from confused to incredulous before she scoffed.

“Really, Gabriel? A fake inspired by a Sotheby’s auction piece? You’ve got some nerve.”

Looking at this woman—three years older than me—I silently thanked the heavens I wasn’t yet legally of age to marry. If it weren’t for that loophole, by the terms of our family agreement, I’d already be her husband.

To be tied to someone like this—calculating, pretentious, cheap, and absolutely lacking in discernment—would’ve been the shame of my life.

I sighed and gestured toward the door.

“Phoebe, I don’t blame you for being blind, but if you’re going to come into my house and humiliate yourself, I won’t entertain it any longer.”

Her expression immediately darkened. “Oh, so now you think I need you?”

“Let me tell you—men like you, who rely on their bodies and sponge off others, are the worst! You’ve got a terrible reputation now. No decent woman would marry you! I was only tolerating you because of the elders’ arrangement!”

I didn’t bother arguing. Instead, I picked up the vase and slowly turned it over so she could see the base.

“Take a good look. It's Sotheby’s authentication serial number—one of a kind. The final bid is 120 million dollars.”

“You really think I’d stoop so low for your five hundred thousand?” I snickered.

“I could let it go out of respect for our families. But the funny thing is—I happen to despise gold-digging women who want something for nothing.”

“So here’s my offer: if you and your little goon squad leave my house immediately and never show your face to me again, I’ll forget the slander and online harassment.”

Phoebe froze.

The bodyguards all gasped, one of them whispering, “Miss Wright, he’s so confident. Maybe this is a misunderstanding. That vase looks real to me.”

Phoebe’s face turned an ugly shade of gray. She yanked the vase out of my hands and turned it over and over, her expression growing darker with each second.

Finally, she pulled out her phone and called Blake.

“Blake, your sister works at the Sotheby’s auction house, right? Ask her who won the final bid on that plum vase last time.”

“Oh, and bring the top-tier lawyer I hired over to Gabriel’s place.”

“He’s still denying he used my card. Today, I will make him admit it. I can’t let him think he can dominate me now and get even worse after marriage!”

Well, if she wanted to be humiliated, I didn’t mind waiting.

Ten minutes later, Blake arrived with the lawyer in tow, wearing a smug look on his face.

“Miss Wright, I checked. That plum vase was bought by the richest man in the city. He said it was a gift for his son to use as a flower vase.”

Upon hearing that, Phoebe’s face lit up with a certainty.

Blake picked up the plum vase and examined it with a mocking smile.

“Gabriel, you really went all out trying to play the rich guy, huh? Even had a high-end replica made this realistic?”

But the moment the top-tier lawyer—Phoebe’s so-called gold-medal legal consultant—got a proper look at the vase, her expression shifted. Adjusting her gold-rimmed glasses, she stepped forward for a closer inspection.

However, the next second, m a piercing shatter echoed through the living room.

Blake slammed the vase onto the floor.

The Song Dynasty plum vase—worth one hundred twenty million dollars—was now nothing but dust and shards.

I froze.

Even Phoebe looked stunned for a second before shooting him an annoyed glare.

“Blake, stop messing around! Even if it’s just a replica, that thing was worth a decent amount!”

Blake pouted, his eyes red with emotion. “Miss Wright, it’s obvious Gabriel is never going to pay you back. I smashed a fake on your behalf, to help you vent! And now you’re blaming me?”

Right in front of me, Phoebe’s expression softened. She gently comforted him, “I’m not blaming you. I just wanted him to cough up the five hundred thousand, so I could put a down payment on a small apartment for you.”

“My best employee deserves only the best.”

“Hopefully, someone around here will finally understand the gap between us and obediently sign those agreements. After all, the line of men who want to marry into my family could wrap around the entire city.”

She shot me a look full of smug implication.

I rolled my eyes like I was looking at a pair of idiots. “Phoebe, do yourself a favor and find out who actually spent that five hundred thousand before you start accusing people. Otherwise, yeah—you’re right, people trying to drain your bank account really do stretch around New York.”

Blake visibly flinched, and tears started streaming down his face, this time with less performance and more panic.

Phoebe rushed to console him, flustered.

I’d had enough of their public display of twisted affection. My voice cut in, as I spat coldly, “Since you care so much about your employees, Miss Wright, I assume you’ll be the one compensating for that one hundred twenty million vase?”

She raised her foot and aimed to stomp the broken pieces even further.

“A fake like that? You expect me to pay for it? What, feeling heartbroken now? Didn’t you claim it was authentic? Didn’t you say you were rich? Then go buy another one!”

Blake wiped his tears instantly and puffed up like a rooster, looking triumphant.

But before her foot landed, the gold-medal lawyer dropped to her knees with a thud, arms out to block her.

“Miss Wright—if I’m not mistaken... that vase was real.”

Her words shut both Phoebe and Blake up instantly.

I blinked. Well, well. So the “gold-medal” lawyer actually had some expertise beyond legal jargon.

But in the next second, Phoebe shoved her aside and crushed the remaining shards under her heel.

“Lawyer Nelson, you’re paid to handle contracts—not antiques. You heard what they said—the real vase was bought by the richest man in New York for his son to use as a flower vase. As if that would ever end up in this house.”

Blake immediately gasped dramatically. “Unless Gabriel stole it from the richest man’s house?”

“Or wait... did he actually seduce the richest man himself?!”

I couldn't help but laugh at their ridiculous assumptions.

“Well, since we’re putting cards on the table, I'll tell you. The richest man in New York? That’s my dad.”

Phoebe and Blake locked eyes for a moment—then burst out laughing like it was the funniest joke they had ever heard.

“Oh wow,” Phoebe wheezed. “Gabriel, I know your family’s situation like the back of my hand. Your dad? New York’s richest man? Oh please—maybe your sugar daddy.”

Narrowing her eyes, she added, “So that’s how you swing, huh? You go both ways now?”

“Well, considering you’ve got connections like that, I suppose I could reconsider the breakup. You don’t even have to pay five hundred thousand anymore.”

“All I ask is that you sign these agreements and make sure your ‘father’ supports my family’s business annually”

“In return, I’ll make sure you and your sugar... I mean, father, can keep everything discreet.”

I never imagined Phoebe could be this shameless.

What did she take me for? Some pawn in a game of transactional marriage?

If not for this five hundred thousand dollar fiasco, I might’ve actually been fooled by her looks.

Phoebe scribbled the new, last-minute conditions directly onto the prenuptial agreement in front of me—terms she had clearly just made up on the spot.

“Gabriel, sign it,” she ordered coolly.

Blake instantly jumped in, panicking.

“Miss Wright, how could a man as reckless and indecent as him be worthy of marrying you?!”

“Besides, if he really had ties to the richest man in New York, someone that is obsessed with money, do you really think he’d eat at some cheap chain restaurant if he had access to that kind of wealth?”

“I’m telling you, he’s bluffing! He’s using that identity to scare you into marrying him. Don’t fall for it!”

Phoebe hesitated. Then sighed, as if it were all out of her hands.

“Blake, even if he is a gold-digger, once he signs this, he won’t escape my control after the wedding.”

“And you know—if I don’t marry him, my dad won’t hand over the Wright family shares to me.”

So that was it.

She never wanted to marry me—she just needed me to get something else.

And as for Blake’s desperate attempts to block the marriage—I was already beginning to suspect that secondary card had something to do with him.

Otherwise, how could a mere assistant be decked out in the latest high-end designer brands from head to toe?

I wouldn’t be surprised if he was the one spending on that card.

I took the agreement she handed me and said calmly, “I’ll sign it—after we settle the five hundred thousand dollar bill.”

The so-called “gold medal lawyer” had already taken a mental inventory of the antiques in my home. The way she looked at me had changed—from earlier contempt to something closer to unease.

She’d probably figured out the truth. Maybe even started to believe who I really was.

And that’s exactly what I wanted—to make Phoebe eat her own words in front of the very people she brought to shame me.

I gave her a glance, and the lawyer—Ms. Rachel Nelson—rushed to speak.

“Miss Wright, you asked me here to verify the bill. I’m only handling that. If there's anything else, I’m not responsible for it.”

A flicker of unease flashed across Phoebe’s face, but she waved a hand anyway.

“Fine. Let’s go over it.”

Each item was checked. Every time something matched, the bodyguards combed through my house to find a duplicate.

Surprisingly, they actually found two pieces that resembled the high-end purchases on the card.

Rachel’s expression shifted again.

Blake, smug, looked ready to declare victory.

Then I spoke, slowly, “Phoebe, how many supplementary cards do you have?”

She answered without hesitation. “Only one—and I gave it to you.”

I glanced at Blake—his eyes dodged mine.

Bingo.

Without warning, I snatched his bag and dumped its contents onto the floor.

Sure enough—there it was.

A card identical to the one she gave me.

Blake panicked. He lunged for it, but I caught him with a sharp backhand across the face.

Then I handed the card to Rachel.

“Check this card. The truth should be out in no time.”

“If you uphold your professional integrity, I guarantee your career will take a major leap forward.”