Chapter 397 Sarah, I Am Trying to Please You
Sarah had just moved into a spacious apartment, over 3,000 square feet.
Claire couldn't stop raving about it. Her bedroom was a private suite with its own bathroom, and it was 400 square feet," Sarah reassured her , butClaire felt overwhelmed and couldn't bring herself to enjoy it.
"Just relax and stay," Sarah comforted. "I bought this place with my savings and the $2 billion my brother Dylan transferred to my account."
"$2 billion? Mrs. Windsor, could you repeat that?" Claire asked, wide-eyed.
Sarah smiled and repeated herself.
Claire couldn't help but laugh. "Forget $2 billion, even if I had $20 million, I'd be kicking back and not caring who asked me to work! But I still need to raise Jacob and Nicole."
Sarah looked around the apartment, taking in the brand-new furniture, freshly arranged flowers, and the light fragrance that symbolized the freedom she longed for.
She had hired two nannies to help during the day, while she and Claire took care of the children at night.
With Christmas approaching, Sarah was busy with gallery matters, preparing for the grand opening on Valentine's Day. Everett's wife, Sofia Moore, assured her that their collaboration wouldn't be affected by Oliver. Everything was going smoothly.
As evening fell, Sarah saw off the renovation workers and worked overtime on the accounts, not realizing her coffee had gone cold.
A newly hired intern brought something over. "Ms. Miller, we just received a local delivery. Not sure who sent it. Should we open it now?" the intern asked.
Sarah didn't think much of it and told her to set it aside. After finishing her work, she remembered the package, took a utility knife, and opened it.
She was slightly stunned—it was a painting worth over a billion dollars. She didn't need to guess to know it was from Oliver. Sure enough, a scented card had fallen to the floor with Oliver's handwritten message. But Sarah didn't even glance at it and casually tossed it into the trash.
The intern was dumbfounded. "This painting is very valuable! Ms. Miller, don't you like it?"
Sarah smiled faintly. "I do, but the person who sent it is trash."
The intern thought, 'Rich trash!'
At that moment, a young girl walked in from the doorway and rudely asked, "Are you Sarah?"
Sarah looked at her without speaking. The intern couldn't help but scold, "Be respectful! Ms. Miller is the owner of this gallery."
Felicity sneered, picked up the cup of coffee, and poured it over Sarah's head. A hand grabbed her wrist.
A refined man with a face full of resentment said, "Felicity, do you know what you're doing?"
Felicity shook off Lowell's arm and pointed at Sarah, sneering. "Why don't you ask her? She seduced my cousin Lester and caused his death! Now she's seducing you, causing your career to stagnate! She's ruined us... Can't I vent a little?"
Felicity was spoiled at home and didn't know her place.
She had been tailing Sarah for days, knowing she had moved out of Oliver's villa and that they were separated. This meant Oliver wouldn't intervene if she decided to confront Sarah.
Lowell, however, was much more level-headed. He dragged Felicity out, shoved her into the car, and locked it.
Felicity pounded on the window, shouting, "Lowell, you're siding with her! Do you know how awful she is? If it weren't for her, Lester and Alyssa wouldn't have died! Lowell, are you into her just because she's pretty?"
Her words were harsh, and Lowell frowned. He returned to the gallery, where the coffee cup had already been thrown into the trash. Sarah was still buried in her work, as if the incident hadn't fazed her at all.
"Mrs. Windsor," Lowell apologized. "Felicity is immature. I apologize on her behalf."
Sarah was taken aback. After a moment, she asked softly, "She's Lester's cousin? Then you must have known who I was when we met last time..."
Lowell hesitated before saying, "Since Mr. Windsor was kind enough to make an exception in my case, I should thank thank you for your help."
Sarah looked at Lowell. She was no longer a naive girl; she recognized the curiosity and admiration in his eyes.
She didn't want to get involved with him, so she spoke calmly, "That was his decision, not mine. Mr. Warren, I have no interest in meddling in others' affairs. Also, I advise you, Mr. Warren, never be curious about a married woman, or it will ruin you."
Lowell's thoughts were exposed. For a moment, he felt embarrassed and ashamed, but he didn't deny it. He even blurted out, "Aren't you getting divorced?"
Sarah looked up at him. After a moment, she said coldly, "Does that concern you?"
Lowell was stunned. Born into privilege and enjoying a meteoric rise in the entertainment industry, he had always been the golden boy - successful, admired, accustomed to attention. Never before had a woman treated him with such indifference, leaving him utterly at a loss.
He stood there for a while. Then the intern came over to escort him out.
Lowell, wanting to save face, couldn't stay any longer. He walked a few steps, and behind him, Sarah's soft voice called out, "Mr. Warren, if you want a peaceful life, never provoke Oliver."
Lowell turned and looked at her quietly for a long time. This incident left a bad taste.
That night, Sarah took the painting and left the gallery. She walked straight across the street. Across the street, a black Range Rover was parked. Oliver was sitting in the driver's seat, the window half-open, a slender white cigarette between his fingers, lazily smoking.
He looked up and met her gaze in the night. His eyes held a hint of lingering affection, and he seemed to have lost some weight.
Sarah didn't care about him. She walked to the back of the car, opened the trunk, and tossed the billion-dollar painting inside.
She was about to leave when Oliver opened the car door and jumped out. He grabbed her wrist, his voice hoarse, "Sarah, I'm trying to please you! Can't you feel it?"