The Divorcee Amazed the World

Accustomed to Helena’s gentle and calm demeanor, it was the first time Willis saw her in a flustered state, resembling a startled kitten.

Willis found it refreshing, his lips curling into a smile as he teased her, “You got yourself in, and now you can’t push your way out.”

Helena blushed, “That’s not possible.”

He chuckled even more, “Next time, I’ll record it with my phone so you can’t deny it.”

Embarrassed, Helena turned away, reaching for a shirt on the bedside table and hurriedly putting it on.

In her haste, she didn’t even notice if she buttoned it incorrectly.

Watching her slender figure struggle into her clothes, Willis’s mind, however, recalled her distressed state from the previous night in her sleep.

Dreaming of something terrifying, she curled up into a small ball, trembling.

He pulled her into his arms, comforting her, but she murmured the name “Jay” with closed eyes.

He couldn’t remember how many times this had happened. How deep must love be to linger like this?

That Jay, whom he had investigated for a long time, yielded no results.

When he asked her last time, she avoided the question.

Not saying anything was an insult to him; saying it would be an even greater insult.

The smile faded from his face as Willis picked up his watch and put it on his wrist casually, saying, “I might come back very late tonight. Help me find an excuse with Grandma.”

Helena’s hands paused as she buttoned her shirt.

She knew he would be late because he was going to the hospital to accompany Susan.

Feeling humiliated, she was on the verge of tears, uncomfortably pricked by a needle in her heart.

After a while, she finally spoke, “I’ll talk to Grandma about the divorce. I’ll do my best to convince her. I’m sorry for inconveniencing you.”

Willis looked at her meaningfully, “I’m sorry for inconveniencing you too.”

After breakfast, the chauffeur from the old mansion drove Helena to Antique Attic.

A busy day passed.

By the end of the workday, Helena received a call from the chauffeur, “Madam, my car was hit by a drunk driver. I have to wait for the police to handle it. Can you take a taxi home?”

“Sure.”

Carrying her bag, Helena walked out of the antique street.

Turning a corner, two men caught up with her, blocking her way.

One of them, tall and thin, spoke, “Are you Helena? Please come with us.”

Helena cautiously examined the two men, in their late twenties, wearing sunglasses in the dark of the night. They seemed suspicious, with a faintly unpleasant odor emanating from them.

Feeling uneasy, she asked, “Where are we going?”

The tall, thin man said, “We need your help to restore an ancient painting. Don’t worry; we mean no harm, and we’ll pay you the market price.”

Helena sighed in relief, “Just bring the painting to my workplace.”

The other bald man scowled, “Why waste time talking to her? Let’s take her.”

Helena, alarmed, started to run.

But before she could get far, the bald man grabbed her arm and pulled her into a black sedan parked at the side of the road.

The car started moving.

The tall, thin man found Helena’s phone in her bag and said, “Call your family and tell them you’re going out with friends for a few days. Let them not worry.”

Helena instinctively wanted to call Willis, but then she realized he would be at the hospital with Susan. Who had time to care for her? She decided to call her mother.

She asked one of the men, who is tall, to find her mother’s number.

When the call connected, Helena said, “Mom, I’m going out with friends for a few days. Remember to take your diabetes medicine on time…”

Before she could finish, the tall, thin man took her phone, turned it off, and covered her eyes with a black cloth.

The car seemed to drive for a very long time before finally stopping.

Helena was led into an old building.

They climbed the stairs and reached the third floor.

Opening a door, they found a large red table with a safe on it.

The tall man approached and opened the safe, taking out the painting.

The painting was about one and a half meters long, very old, with severe damage to the canvas. Many parts of the artwork were missing, requiring restoration.

Helena stared at the painting carefully. The style was profound and elegant, rich in artistic conception.

On the canvas, perilous peaks stood tall and magnificent, with undulating mountain ranges. Amidst the mountains, dense forests covered the slopes, and in a deep valley, a few thatched cottages were vaguely visible, with a recluse sitting on a bed, hugging his knees.

She recognized this as a hidden residence painting by the renowned artist M. H.Content protected by Nôv/el(D)rama.Org.

One of M. H’s paintings had once fetched a sky-high price of four hundred million.

If this painting could be restored well, it would easily start at tens of millions. No wonder these two took the risk of bringing her here.

Instead of sending the painting to her shop for restoration, they had her come in person. This indicated that the painting had an irregular origin, either stolen or unearthed from an ancient tomb.

The tall man asked, “Helena, how long will it take to restore this painting?”

“The painting is large, severely damaged, and has significant loss of artistic expression. It will take at least half a month.”