The Wife He Tried To Erase Chapter 13
Zurich, at the end of Bahnhofstrasse, stood a private art gallery.
A solo exhibition by an emerging artist, titled “Rise From the Ashes,” was being held there.
Nicholas stood at the street corner; he had lost a lot of weight, and his cheekbones were slightly prominent.
The once spirited head of the Gallagher family now appeared to possess a kind of sickly decadence.
Yet his eyes shone with a frightening brightness.
“Mr. Gallagher, without an invitation, we can’t get in.”
Elroy reminded him in a low voice.
“Should we contact the organizers and apply some pressure?”
“No need.”
Nicholas straightened his collar, his gaze locked firmly on the gallery’s entrance.
“I’ll wait right here.”
He was afraid of frightening her.
If he forced his way in, would she run away like a startled rabbit?
One hour, two hours passed.
Snowflakes fell onto his shoulders, forming a thin layer.
Finally, the gallery doors opened.
A crowd surrounded a woman dressed in a wine-red velvet gown as she walked out.
Nicholas’s breath stopped instantly.
It was Emilia, yet she no longer looked like Emilia.
The Emilia of the past always wore plain white dresses or gray clothes, kept her head bowed, and never dared to laugh loudly.
But the woman before him, her red dress blazed like fire, her hair styled in voluptuous waves, her lips a vivid crimson.
She held a champagne glass in her hand, tilting her head as she chatted and laughed with a gentleman beside her.
Nicholas recognized that man.
It was Zachary.
Zachary wore a white suit, holding Emilia’s coat in his arm, gazing at her with indulgence, occasionally leaning in to whisper something in her ear, making Emilia throw her head back in laughter.
Her laughter was crisp and bright, like a sharp blade stabbing deep into Nicholas’s heart.
She had been by his side for three years, but had never laughed like this.
“Emmy!”
He rushed forward, pushing aside the security guards blocking his way, stumbling toward the figure in red.
The crowd stirred in commotion.
Emilia’s laughter abruptly ceased.
She turned her head, looking at the disheveled man who had rushed up to her.
Their eyes met.
Nicholas thought he would see hatred, anger, or even fear.
But there was none.
Nothing at all.
Nothing at all.
Emilia’s beautiful eyes were calm and unruffled, even showing a hint of annoyance at being disturbed.
“Emmy… it’s me.”
Nicholas stopped three steps away from her, his voice trembling uncontrollably.
“I’m Nicky… I’ve come to take you home.”
He reached out, wanting to take her hand, but hesitated, his fingers hovering in the air, trembling slightly.
“My name is not Emmy.”
Emilia spoke calmly.
Nicholas froze: “Stop joking, Emmy, I know it’s you. Look, this is your painting ‘Rebirth.’ I understand it now, I know I was wrong, I really know I was wrong…”
He frantically pulled out a crumpled art book from his chest, speaking incoherently.
“Sir.”
She took Zachary’s arm, leaning back slightly.
She looked at Nicholas, her lips curling into a polite yet distant smile: “As for the Emmy you mentioned, I’m sorry, I don’t know her. Also, this is a private gathering. Your current behavior constitutes harassment.”
“You don’t know her?”
Nicholas’s eyes were red, staring fixedly at the hand she held around Zachary’s arm.
“Emilia, are you pretending? We were married for three years! I would recognize you even if you turned to ashes!”
He lost control, suddenly stepping forward to grab her wrist.
“Don’t touch her!”
Zachary, who had been silent, suddenly stepped in front of Emilia, grabbing Nicholas’s wrist with astonishing strength.
Zachary looked at Nicholas, his almond-shaped eyes full of mockery and coldness: “Mr. Gallagher, this is not New York, nor is it the Gallagher family where you can act crazy as you please. Emmy struggled to climb out of hell; must you drag her back again?”
“Get out of the way! This is between her and me!”
Nicholas tried to shake off Zachary, his gaze stubbornly fixed on Emilia over Zachary’s shoulder.
“Emmy, I know you hate me. You can hit me, curse me, I’ll say ‘I’m sorry’ ten thousand times if you want, as long as you come back with me… I know the truth now, Valentina has already been sent away by me, no one can hurt you anymore…”
“Mr. Gallagher.”
Emilia interrupted him.
She stepped out from behind Zachary, standing on the steps, looking down at him.
Her gaze was both compassionate and cold.
“Does your so-called truth matter to me?”
She asked softly in return.
“You sent the abuser to prison, but can that erase the pain of a hundred electric shocks through my brain?”
“Can it bring my dead mother back to life? Can it let these hands pick up the fine sketching brush again?”
She raised her right hand, waving it under the streetlight.
That hand was slender and fair, but trembled slightly.
It was permanent nerve damage; for the rest of her life, she would never again paint with the delicacy she once had.
The current ‘Rebirth’ was a desperate attempt to mask imperfection with wildness.
Nicholas looked at that hand, his heart aching so much it curled up, his knees nearly buckling.
“I’m sorry… Emmy, I will cure you, even if it costs me everything I have…”
“There’s no need.”
Emilia withdrew her hand, wrapping herself tightly in the coat Zachary had draped over her.
“Sir, my home is here, my beloved is here, my past is dead. Please respect yourself.”
With that, she turned and left, arm in arm with Zachary.
“Security, see the guest out.”
Several tall security guards immediately surrounded Nicholas, blocking his way.
“Emilia! You are not allowed to leave!”
Nicholas shouted in the crowd, “You are Mrs. Gallagher! You are my wife! The Gallagher Group’s ancestral rule forbids divorce! You will always belong to me!”
Emilia did not stop, nor did she even look back.