### Chapter 50: The Wedding Ring “It’s really nothing. My parents owe me a significant amount of money. After our fallout, they turned their backs on me and refused to settle the debt. It’s a family issue—I can handle it myself. No need for you to get involved.” Janet’s voice was laid-back, yet her omission of crucial details hung in the air like a thick fog. Ethan shot her a sidelong glance, frustration pooling in his chest. He didn’t know much about the Lind family, their dynamics, or their history, but he could sense Janet’s stubbornness was keeping her from revealing the whole truth. “Fine,” he relented, though a hint of concern quivered beneath his calm demeanor. “But if you ever need anything, just let me know.” With a reluctant nod, Janet lowered her gaze to the ground, her expression unreadable. “Okay,” she murmured softly. Ethan reached out and pinched her cheek playfully, his voice dropping to a low, serious tone. “And from now on, you need to make it clear to everyone that you’re married.” “Fine, fine! What do you want? Should I wear a sign that says ‘married’?” Janet huffed, lifting her chin defiantly, her lips curving into a childish pout. “It’s for your own good, you know,” Ethan replied, his brow furrowed. “That Christopher guy has some shady motives—trust me, you could see them written all over his face.” As he spoke, he pulled her closer, the warmth of his body a stark contrast to the tension swirling between them. “What? Seriously? Why couldn’t I see it then? He’s helped me before. Don’t be so quick to judge him,” Janet retorted, rolling her eyes dramatically. “Are you kidding? It’s clear as day he has his eyes set on you,” Ethan snorted, his gaze darkening with a protective edge. “How can you say that?” Janet shot back, indignation flaring in her chest. Ethan knew how to push her buttons, and this time, she was not having it. “Can’t you, just once, act like a rational guy? Not everyone thinks like you do,” she snapped, frustration evident in her voice. “True, I suppose he is different,” Ethan said with a sly grin, raising an eyebrow. “I’m legally bound to you; he isn’t.” Janet was at a loss for words, and in a huff, she pushed him away and hurried down the hall, her cheeks flushed crimson. Once home, she kept her distance, the simmering tension stretching like an elastic band between them. Ethan approached her bedroom door, gently knocking to announce his presence before entering. In his hands was a glass of warm milk, an olive branch of sorts. “Are you planning to ignore me for eternity, Miss Lind?” he asked, his voice carrying an air of playful defiance. Without sparing him a glance, Janet resumed her drawing, determined to shield her feelings. Suddenly, Ethan grasped her hand, pressing something cool against her palm. The abruptness startled her. She glanced down to find an old platinum ring, its emerald glimmering faintly even in the subdued light. “What’s this supposed to mean?” she asked, bewildered. “My mother left it for me. Put it on; it’ll show everyone that you’re a married woman,” he asserted, leaning casually against her desk, a soft smile illuminating his features as he watched her reaction. Janet hesitated for a moment, then rolled the ring over in her fingers before sliding it onto her left ring finger. The emerald sat beautifully against her fair skin, casting a faint luminescence. It suited her, though it felt larger than it should—not a perfect fit. Holding her hand aloft, she struggled to suppress a smile. “It’s beautiful. Thank you,” she managed, her voice losing its earlier stiffness. That weekend, clutching the items she had salvaged from the Lind estate, Janet made her way to a local second-hand shop, hoping for a fair price. The shop, cluttered with forgotten treasures and misplaced hopes, buzzed with a chaotic energy. “How could all of this be worth only twenty thousand?” Janet exclaimed, her anger bubbling to the surface. “The bag alone is worth more than that!” The shop assistant regarded her with a condescending smirk. “Any second-hand item typically sells at ten percent of its original price.” With a few taps on her calculator, the assistant looked up, irritation etched across her face. “If you’re not here to sell, you can step aside; there’s a line forming.” “All of these are authentic!” Janet insisted, her voice rising in desperation. The twenty thousand barely covered Hannah’s medical bills, and she needed every cent. “Honestly, I don’t care if they’re real or fake,” the assistant retorted dismissively. “They’re all second-hand and old models from over a decade ago. Only this Hermes holds any real value. We’re not running a charity here. I can add five thousand for the bag, but that’s my final offer. If it’s too low, feel free to take your business elsewhere.” Janet could see through to the assistant’s intentions; knowing her need for money, the woman was relishing the upper hand. Helplessness washed over her, and she reluctantly accepted the paltry sum, feeling the weight of the loss. Just as she turned to leave, a woman in her early thirties, identified by her manager’s name tag, stepped before her. “Miss, why the long face? Did you not find the price satisfactory?” she asked, a glint of curiosity in her eyes. “If you're short on cash, perhaps you'd consider selling that lovely ring on your hand. I assure you, we’d offer a generous price for it!” The shop manager’s gaze was fixated greedily on the emerald ring, a flicker of avarice evident. The encounter sent a ripple of unease through Janet, propelling her to reassess the value of the treasures she held—both material and sentimental.