The swirling black smoke resembled smoky eye makeup, lips uncolored yet crimson, the whole person beguiling to the extreme.
Grace Sutton's heart skipped a beat instinctively.
Help!
She had looked at this face for three years, and for the first time, found it so alluring.
Not that she wasn't pretty before, just always strangely so.
Clearly, she wasn't the delicate beauty type, yet she insisted on dressing like a demure southern belle, creating such a strong contrast that it felt a bit out of place.
She was meant to rely on her looks to be assertive.
"Quiana, take my advice, throw away all your previous clothes, they're not suitable for you."
Quiana Sutton walked to the trash can, stubbed out the cigarette, and casually tossed the extinguished butt in.
"Rest assured, my old clothes, bags, and jewelry will never appear on me again."
She wanted to completely say goodbye to the past.
An OST for a teen drama was easy work for her; she finished recording in about two hours.
Even Grace Sutton couldn't help but marvel; Quiana's voice was truly touched by an angel. The love song was so tender it even made her, a single person, want to fall in love.
After the recording ended, she approached Quiana and said, "Quiana, you should know about the new generation idol Axius Somerville, right? His manager contacted me, hoping to collaborate with you on a single."
She replied expressionlessly, "Axius Somerville's fans range from young to old, with countless girlfriend and mom fans. Working with him would just be throwing me into the fire."
Grace Sutton was rather eager to take a gamble, "In terms of musical talent, you're not inferior to anyone. Collaborating with Axius Somerville is a rare opportunity, both a chance and a challenge for you. It might even clear your reputation somewhat."
Quiana contemplated seriously for a moment, then agreed.
"Okay, but I have a condition."
Grace Sutton: "What condition?"
"There's a reality show called 'Outdoor Survival Challenge'. I want to participate."
Grace Sutton: "???"
Has Quiana gone mad?
She felt something was off when she saw her today, and Grace Sutton seriously suspected Quiana of taking the wrong medication.
She directly refused.
"No, all the participants in this show are men, and the outdoor survival challenge involves danger. The production team will not agree to let a woman participate."
Quiana promised, "I will take care of myself, nothing will happen."
Grace still did not agree.
Quiana did not force it, just said blandly, "Since you don't agree, then my collaboration with Axius Somerville is off too."
Her tone was casual, but Grace Sutton detected a hint of threat.
Once again, infinitely frustrated.
A woman who marries the wrong man suffers; choosing the wrong artist caused her the same misery. Helplessly, she agreed, "I'll intercede for you, but I can't guarantee the other side will agree."
Grace Sutton usually wouldn't make promises lightly, but since she did, it was likely achievable, so Quiana wasn't too worried.
Just before, Julian Haworth sent her several messages, informing her that Durrell Landon had woken up.
She reprinted a copy of the divorce agreement and went to Xiangbei Hospital.
When she pushed the door open, Julian looked at her with schadenfreude and a hint of sympathy.
Back when she and Durrell Landon got married, Julian had doubted it would end well and even predicted they would divorce someday.
Well, now his words had come true.
Durrell Landon had woken up not long ago and was still very weak.
Expressionless, he sat on the hospital bed, the whole person seeming aloof.
It's no exaggeration to say that Durrell Landon is stunningly handsome, enough to take one's breath away.
Whether it's his thick, dark brows, a nose as straight as a peak, flawless bronzed skin, or the chiselled lines of his face, every exquisite detail forms a dazzling perfection.
Unfortunately, such a perfect man now bore a flaw, with a bandage wrapped around his forehead.
She couldn't help but check on the wound, but his body shifted subtly, revealing a guarded look in his eyes.
"Who are you?"
Quiana froze for a moment.
Julian, in a well-intended explanation, remarked, considering himself a really good person:
"Durrell has amnesia; he remembers everyone except you."
He remembered everyone but forgot her alone.
Quiana mockingly laughed to herself, relieved she hadn't let herself get too caught up. The day-in and day-out companionship over these three years had almost made her think he liked her, thank goodness she withdrew in time, becoming more resolute about the divorce.
Fishing out the divorce documents from her bag, she handed them to him:
"Doesn't matter if you don't remember, just as long as you agree to sign."
Durrell's brows furrowed at the divorce document words, and his aura grew graver, darker, seemingly tinged with a faint scent of blood.
He tossed the divorce documents aside, eyes filled with arrogance and detachment:
"I don't know you; I won't be signing this document."
The former Durrell didn't exactly enthusiasm, but he also wasn't this cold. Now, she somewhat believed he truly didn't remember her.
"It doesn't matter if you don't remember; as long as the law recognizes us as married, it's enough. If you don't want anything to do with me, just sign the papers."
Durrell let out a mocking laugh, sarcasm glinting in his eyes: "How can one sign documents arbitrarily? Unless there's evidence proving we're married, I won't trust anyone."
Quiana looked at him speechlessly and also felt a tinge of regret.
The marriage certificate between them had always been kept by Durrell, and now with his amnesia, he probably didn't remember where it was kept.
As for her, she had no idea where he placed the marriage certificate.
She couldn't possibly go to the civil affairs bureau to check the records, could she?
If she really did go to the civil affairs bureau, she'd probably dominate the entertainment news sections by tomorrow.
Durrell, just having woken up, displayed a trace of weariness, gazing at Quiana with a hint of impatience.
"Julian, get this person out."
Julian made a standard "please" gesture.
"Mr. Durrell doesn't want to see you; you'd better leave."
Quiana was "politely" escorted out by Julian, looking at the tightly closed hospital room door, for the first time, a rage built up inside her, wanting to kick the door down.
Telling herself repeatedly that this was a hospital, not to draw trouble, she managed to repress the anger.
Outside the hospital room.
Knight Tamworth stood leaning against the wall, arms crossed, eyes half-closed, unmoving, and no one could read any emotion from him.
Quiana glanced at him indifferently, ready to ignore him.
Knowing Knight Tamworth for three years now, she still didn't know exactly what he did.
Proficient in Ancient Martial Arts, computing, painting, wine-tasting… he was almost omnipotent.
Compared to the outwardly emotional Julian, the reserved Knight Tamworth was the more dangerous.
As she was about to brush past Knight Tamworth, he suddenly spoke.
"I will help you."
She halted, not quite trusting in Knight Tamworth's words:
"Why would you help me?"
Knight Tamworth opened his eyes, staring at Quiana intently:
"Consider it as helping Durrell. Actually, he really likes you. Just to anger Evelyn Windsor, he wouldn't be so impulsive to marry you. He knows better than anyone what marriage means."
If Knight Tamworth was willing to help, she wouldn't refuse such help.
"Thank you in advance, just remember to let me know when he regains his memory, then I'll print another divorce agreement."
Knight Tamworth didn't say anything further.
After leaving the hospital, she didn't plan on returning to the apartment.
The apartment was filled with Durrell Landon's presence, and she feared that staying there too long would soften her resolve and lead to regret.
So, she went straight to her friend Isabelle Somerville's house.