The air in the conference room felt as if it had frozen.
After a moment of tense silence, one of the board members furrowed his brows and broke it. “This painting is about to go up for auction. Its market value is considerable. Acquiring it could indeed drive our collaboration forward, but… the competition will undoubtedly be fierce.”
Another executive, his expression stern, spoke with resolve. “The funds aren’t an issue. What matters is ensuring we secure it.”
All eyes turned in unison to Broad.
Feeling the weight of their expectations on his shoulders, Broad maintained a composed demeanor. He gave a slight nod. “I’ll do everything I can to make it happen.”
When the meeting ended, Broad threw himself into a whirlwind of work.
By evening, weighed down by frustration, he left his office and loosened the top button of his shirt. He walked into a familiar bar, seeking solace in alcohol, even if just for a brief reprieve.
But as soon as he stepped inside, a familiar figure caught his eye.
It was Miranda.
She lounged lazily on a sofa in one of the booths, holding a glass of wine in her hand, her expression relaxed.
At that moment, a drunken middle-aged man noticed her. His eyes roamed over her shamelessly, finally settling on her chest.
Miranda’s brows furrowed slightly. She shot him a cold glance, clearly uninterested in engaging.
The man, however, was undeterred. He swaggered over and sat down beside her, his tone lewd. “A woman as beautiful as you-why are you sitting here all alone? Let me keep you company.”
As he spoke, his hand reached for her shoulder.
Miranda shoved his hand away without hesitation. “Get lost.”
The man froze, clearly not expecting her to be so direct. He quickly recovered, pulling out a wad of cash from his wallet and slapping it onto the table.
“Don’t act all high and mighty. Spend one night with me, and all this money is yours.”
Broad, who had just stepped through the door, witnessed the entire scene.
His expression darkened instantly, anger surging through him like a storm.
He strode quickly over to Miranda and demanded, “Miranda, what are you doing?”
The drunken man, emboldened by alcohol, reached out to grope Miranda’s hip.
But Miranda grabbed his wrist in one swift motion and twisted it lightly. The man let out a bloodcurdling scream.
“Stop! Stop! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Please let go!” he wailed.
“Get out,” Miranda said icily.
She released his hand, then kicked him to the floor with a single, decisive motion.
The man scrambled to his feet under the gaze of the onlookers, his face red with humiliation. He stumbled out of the bar, tail between his legs.
Miranda snorted derisively and sank back into her seat. She took another sip of her drink, muttering, “Pathetic.”
Broad’s eyes flicked to the stack of cash on the table. His face grew even darker. “If you need money, you can tell me! We’re still not divorced! How dare you come to a place like this to work?”
Miranda looked up at him, her gaze filled with disdain. “We are divorced, Broad. You have no right to tell me what to do. Now leave. I don’t want to see you.”
She let out a cold laugh, her eyes full of mockery. “You think I’m some kind of hostess, don’t you?”
Broad didn’t respond, but his expression betrayed him. He clearly thought she was here for disreputable reasons.
Standing up, Miranda swept her icy gaze across the room. Then she raised her hand and signaled to the bar manager. “Bring me all your best-looking men.”
The manager hesitated for a moment before nodding in understanding. Soon, a line of tall, handsome men stood in front of her.
Miranda crossed her legs, lifted her glass of wine, and said lazily yet confidently, “Take a good look. I’m here to spend money, not make it.”
Broad’s face turned ashen with fury. “You’re-completely hopeless!”
He threw those words at her before spinning around and storming out of the bar.
Yet he didn’t leave it at that.
Outside, Broad stood at the entrance, his expression dark and unreadable. Something about Miranda felt different-she had gained a sense of freedom he couldn’t control. And that freedom unsettled him.
Pulling out his phone, he dialed a number.
“Lauren,” he said to the private investigator on the other end, “I need you to look into someone for me… Get me everything you can about her, and make it fast.”
Meanwhile, back in the bar, the owner, Mallory, hurried over and approached Miranda with a smile.
“Miss Miranda, sorry to keep you waiting.”
Miranda set down her glass and nodded slightly.
Mallory sat across from her, his tone earnest. “I’ve been wanting to renovate this bar for a while, but I haven’t been able to find the right designer. I’ve heard so much about your talent and your past work. Everyone says you’re a genius. I’d like to hire you to create a design plan for the renovation.”
At the mention of “design,” a flicker of complex emotion crossed Miranda’s face.
She had indeed been hailed as a design prodigy. From a young age, she had studied art with her mother, her talent for drawing and design unparalleled. But for Broad, she had given it all up, becoming a full-time housewife.
Now, she was determined to reclaim the life she had lost.
That was why, when Mallory called her that morning, she had agreed to meet.
Curious, she asked, “How did you hear about me?”
Mallory smiled. “Real talent never goes unnoticed.”
Miranda fell silent, her gaze sweeping over the bar. The decor was outdated, but the layout had potential. With the right redesign, it could be transformed into something truly remarkable.
“Alright,” she said slowly. “I’ll have the design ready for you in three days.”
Mallory’s eyes lit up with excitement. He nodded eagerly. “Great! I can’t wait to see your work.”
Miranda took a small sip of her drink, a hint of long-lost exhilaration rising within her.
She had once believed she would never return to the design world. But now, it seemed this might just be her first step back onto the stage.