From Wife To Fashion Tycoon

In the master bedroom of the Owen family's villa, two figures were entwined passionately.

As Callan Owen let out a deep growl, he and his wife, Lacey Owen, both collapsed onto the pristine bed.

Afterwards, he planted a tender kiss on her forehead before heading to the bathroom.

Lacey slowly opened her eyes, her gaze full of desire following the man.

Callan had been insatiable that day, making love to her on the sofa, in the bathroom, and finally on the bed.

Lacey thought about their undeniable chemistry in bed and felt her cheeks warm up.

Suddenly, the phone beside the bed rang.

With a slight frown, Lacey reached for it, unlocked the screen, and checked the message.

The message contained a photo of a couple dining together.

But Lacey's expression turned to stone when she recognized the people in the photo.

The man was her husband, Callan!

And the woman with him...

Her phone beeped again with a new message from the same sender.

"Lacey, after three years with Callan, it's time for you to return him to me, right?"

Lacey's hands shook uncontrollably.

It had been three years, and now the woman returned.

Staring at the image of her husband cozying up to another woman made her heart sink. Despite it being summer, a cold chill enveloped her.

The sender was Sylvia Barnes, Callan's former fiancee and the woman he truly loved.

Lacey's union with Callan was nothing more than a contract.

Three years prior, her adoptive mother suffered a heart attack and desperately needed surgery. Lacey's path crossed with Nadia Owen, Callan's grandmother, near the hospital, which led to their acquaintance.

Nadia's intervention enabled her foster mother to undergo the necessary surgery. Consequently, Lacey married Callan, who was in a deep coma following an accident and was at risk of permanent paralysis.

By some miracle, Callan recovered after three years, during which Lacey cared for him devotedly.

Over those years, she grew to love him, witnessing his struggles and resilience daily.

As for Sylvia, she had abandoned Callan at his lowest, opting to pursue her career abroad.

Lacey had convinced herself that Callan and Sylvia were a closed chapter. Yet, to her dismay, Callan met with Sylvia for dinner the moment she returned from overseas.

Was he really so eager to reconnect with her?

Lacey's heart sank as she stared at the photograph.

Over the last three years, Sylvia's name had been a constant echo, revealing how deeply Callan cherished her.

Lacey had been in denial, but the truth was clear now.

Despite being his wife for three years, she couldn't outshine the memories of Sylvia, who still held a place in his heart.

The sound of running water stopped. Callan emerged in a bathrobe and approached Lacey, who sat frozen on the bed.

"What's on your mind?"

Lacey hastily hid her phone and shook her head in response.

Callan embraced her, his head leaning in, his breath warm and damp on her ear.

Just moments ago, their connection felt right. But now, the image from the photo made her feel repulsed.

Struggling to maintain composure, she pushed Callan back and questioned, "Callan, can a couple be happy if one harbors feelings for someone else?"

The desire in his expression vanished.

His gaze intensified, filled with confusion. He scrutinized her before responding. "What are you implying?"

One harbors feelings for someone else? Was Lacey suggesting she was unhappy because she had feelings for another?

Taking a deep breath, Lacey confronted him with a steady gaze. "Have you seen Sylvia recently?"

Callan's reaction was a mix of surprise and complexity.

After a pause, he admitted, "Yes. She's returned. I think we should divorce."

Lacey felt a pang of heartache.

Though she braced herself for such a moment, the reality of his words was unbearable, mixing bitterness and sorrow.

Inhaling deeply, she replied with firmness, "Alright."

Callan detected a hint of resignation in her tone.

Was she so ready to let go?

Could it be because of that man?

With a surge of frustration, Callan's hand tightened into a fist.

He asked her sternly, "Lacey, did our marriage mean anything to you?"

"What's the point of discussing this now?" Lacey, struggling with her emotions, didn't catch the shift in Callan's expression.

With the return of his old flame, Callan's decision to leave her for another was clear. Did her feelings even matter now?

Lacey silently dressed and started to pack her belongings, fighting back tears.

Observing her actions, Callan's expression turned sour. "Are you in such a hurry to go?"

Perhaps she was anxious to be with the man she loved.

Lacey stopped momentarily.

She longed to show him the message from Sylvia, to expose the truth, yet she restrained herself.

Facing him, she retorted with a mocking laugh, "Look who's talking."

With those words, she grabbed her suitcase and left the room, swallowing her sadness and disgrace.

As she neared the door, Callan's voice halted her. "Lacey, does Christopher Hewitt mean that much to you?"

The mention of Christopher after so long made her heart jolt.

Lacey felt overwhelmed, flooded with memories she wished to forget.

Christopher had saved her once but then vanished. His fate was unknown. How could she simply move on from him?

Overcome with grief, Lacey found herself unable to speak.

Callan interpreted her silence as confirmation. Mocking his own folly, he muttered, "You're free now, Lacey."

Turning to face him one last time, Lacey realized those were the words he should hear from her.

She had shared three years of her life with Callan. With the divorce, he was now free to pursue the woman he truly loved.

Struggling with her emotions, Lacey replied, "The same goes for you."

With those words, she turned and walked away.

Callan watched her leave, his fists clenching and unclenching in a mix of emotions.

His gaze hardened, and he let go of his tension, heading towards his study.

As Lacey descended the stairs, she couldn't help but glance back.

The hallway was deserted, leaving her feeling profoundly let down.

A bitter laugh escaped her. What was she hoping for?

Gripping her suitcase firmly, she was about to exit when a disdainful voice called out, "Lacey, you're leaving, I see?"

Lacey glanced over her shoulder.

It was Dolores Owen, Callan's mother.

With a scornful look, Dolores remarked, "Of course, now that Sylvia is here, what chance do you stand?"

"Without a doubt, Sylvia holds great importance in Callan's heart." Dolores eyed Lacey triumphantly, her eyebrows arching. "Now that she's come back, you'll have to return Callan to her."

Lacey remained motionless, fixing her gaze on Dolores, her fingers instinctively tightening around the suitcase handle.

Dolores' sharp words pierced Lacey's heart.

Unfazed by Lacey's silence, Dolores pressed on.

"Do you know how outstanding Callan is? You come from humble beginnings. There's a vast divide between you two. How can you possibly measure up?"

Lacey's lashes shielded the hurt in her eyes. She cast her gaze downward, offering no response as she brushed past Dolores with her suitcase in tow.

Dolores grew incensed by Lacey's indifference.

Seizing Lacey's arm, she sneered. "Sylvia boasts a far superior pedigree compared to you. You're nothing but an orphan with a sickly foster mother. The contrast couldn't be starker."

Lacey's demeanor turned icy in an instant.

Her foster mother was off-limits. She wouldn't tolerate anyone disparaging her.

Lacey shook off Dolores' hand that was holding her arm and said coldly, "Perhaps you should get your eyes checked. You take Sylvia as a treasure, but don't forget she left your son when he needed her most."

Lacey's retort ignited Dolores' fury.

Lacey dared to mock her insight!

Dolores lunged forward, poised to slap Lacey.

Reacting swiftly, Lacey seized Dolores' wrist and stated firmly, "Let's be clear. I am your son's lawful wife, not someone for you to hit."

She then shook off Dolores' hand.

Caught off guard, Dolores tumbled onto the sofa from the force.

Fuming and breathless, she glared at Lacey, seething, "Lacey! How dare you? How dare you strike me?"

Ignoring Dolores' expletives, Lacey grabbed her suitcase and exited the villa without a backward glance.

Meanwhile, Dolores stormed to the study, her face contorted with rage, muttering curses against Lacey.

Wiping her tears, she approached Callan, who was engrossed in company documents, and launched into a dramatic tirade about Lacey.

Callan idly skimmed through the documents spread across his desk, absorbing every word his mother uttered. Dolores' announcement of Lacey's departure momentarily froze his hand. Though his expression remained composed, shock rippled through him.

Lacey had truly left.

Despite their three-year marriage, he couldn't contend with the man who held her heart captive.

Callan vividly recalled Lacey's anguish-filled cries of Christopher's name in her sleep.

Christopher must be the one she loved deeply, the one she couldn't forget.

Callan was aware that Lacey had spent years searching for Christopher, never relenting in her efforts.

His expression grew colder, and he found himself unable to decipher a single word on the documents.

Meanwhile, Lacey's foster mother, Nevaeh Elliott, was perplexed by her return with a suitcase in hand.

"Why the sudden return, dear?" Nevaeh inquired, concern etched in her features.

Wanting to spare Nevaeh worry, Lacey responded vaguely, "Just felt like coming home for a few days."

Observing the weary expression on her face, Nevaeh refrained from probing further.

After exchanging pleasantries with her, Lacey retreated to her room to rest.

The following morning, she awoke as usual, intending to enjoy her day off.

Drifting back into slumber, her peace was shattered by the shrill ring of her phone.

Lacey groggily reached for her phone, squinting at the caller ID through sleepy eyes. Seeing it was the company director, she reluctantly answered.

"Lacey, we have a major client requesting your expertise for a special hairstyle!" the director urged. "Hurry over to the office!"

Lacey felt a twinge of irritation. However, spurred on by the director's insistence, she skipped breakfast and headed straight to the studio.

But by noon, the client mentioned by the director had yet to arrive.

Despite her attempts to step out for breakfast and return, the director insisted she remain in the studio, citing the possibility of the client's imminent arrival.

Feeling helpless, Lacey slouched in her chair in the studio, battling sleepiness. Suddenly, she overheard some colleagues chatting.

"Did you catch the news? Sylvia Barnes signed with Owen Entertainment yesterday."

"Isn't she the actress who recently returned to revamp her career?"

"Yeah..."

The chatter gradually faded into the background. Lacey's brow furrowed, a sense of isolation settling upon her.

Just the day before, Callan had suggested a divorce. Coincidentally, Owen Entertainment signed Sylvia.

With a bitter smile, Lacey was once again reminded of Sylvia's significance in Callan's life.

Waiting expectantly in the studio until 2 PM, Lacey saw no one arrive.

Suddenly, her phone chimed with a message.

Lacey hastily check it.

"Lacey, the client's hairstyle is sorted. You're no longer needed. You can leave now."

Realization dawned on Lacey as she stormed towards the design room, her face flushed with anger, demanding an explanation.

Upon flinging the door open, she was met with the sight of the director warmly welcoming a stunning woman-Sylvia Barnes.

Lacey realized the VIP client was none other than Sylvia.

This revelation made everything clear.

To have her wait, only to be ignored...

Sylvia was clearly asserting her dominance.

Clenching her hands, Lacey was shocked to encounter Sylvia under these circumstances.

"Hello, you must be Lacey Elliott, right?" Sylvia greeted her with a friendly smile.

Her voice was friendly and soft, as though she were greeting a long-lost friend.

Lacey masked the surprise in her eyes and quelled the irritation of being manipulated. She replied composedly, "Yes, Miss Barnes."

Looking confused, Bella glanced between the two and asked, "So do you two know each other?"

Sylvia's smile widened as she responded, "Miss Elliott and I have some history together. Since I still need my hair done, I'll ask her for her assistance. Could everyone else please step out? Thank you!"

Bella complied, not wanting to challenge Sylvia. The others in the room also got up, ready to leave.

Sylvia's tone was sweet and gentle. "I'm really sorry, Miss Barnes. I have an important banquet tonight, so I made a last-minute decision to get our top stylist to do my hair. I'm sorry you had to wait."

Before the room was fully cleared, everyone heard Sylvia's heartfelt apology to Lacey. They couldn't help but be impressed by her humility, despite her celebrity status.

Lacey couldn't resist rolling her eyes at Sylvia's performance.

Soon, they were the only two left in the room, and Sylvia's smile disappeared in an instant.

She gave Lacey a cold look, walked over to the makeup table, sat down, and commanded coldly, "Why are you just standing there? Aren't you going to start curling my hair?"

Lacey gave Sylvia a sharp glance, picked up the curling iron, and began working on her hair.

"For the past three years, Callan has been longing for me," Sylvia said smugly, looking at Lacey in the mirror, her eyes filled with bragging and provocation.

Lacey momentarily stopped with the curling iron in hand.

"You're merely a substitute, just a caretaker for Callan during his illness," Sylvia said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Lacey inhaled deeply and responded in a calm tone, "Is that so? And what about you? You chose to leave Callan during his toughest times. What does that say about you?"

Her words hit the nail on the head, and Sylvia visibly tensed up. The calm in her eyes quickly gave way to a fiery rage.

But then, just as quickly, her anger turned into a smirk. "I'll show you who Callan truly values more."

Lacey frowned, sensing trouble was coming at her. In a sudden move, Sylvia leaned her forehead towards the hot curling iron in Lacey's hand.

"Ah!" Sylvia screamed. She shot up from her chair and shoved Lacey back.

The curling iron slipped from Lacey's hand, searing the inside of her wrist.

She gasped, shutting her eyes against the sharp pain that surged through her wrist.

As she was about to check the burn, a familiar voice echoed from the doorway. "What's happening here?"

Lacey looked up to see the person who spoke.

There stood Callan, dressed in a sleek black suit, observing the scene with a cool demeanor.

Surprise flickered in Callan's eyes upon seeing Lacey.

He hadn't anticipated finding her here at Owen Group's entertainment company, especially not as one of its stylists.

How come he had no idea when she started working here?

"Callan, look at this. It hurts so much..."

The moment Sylvia saw Callan, she threw herself into his arms, her eyes brimming with tears. She appeared utterly fragile and pitiful with her tear-streaked face.

Callan hesitated for a moment and then simply steadied her without fully embracing her.

"Miss Elliott, I only switched stylists. I never doubted your skills. Why would you retaliate against me?" Sylvia accused Lacey, cradling the burn on her forehead. Her face wore a look of deep hurt.

It was a classic scenario of the offender claiming to be the victim.

Lacey struggled to contain her anger. "I didn't harm you."

"You say you didn't, but how do you explain this burn on my forehead? You're a stylist with years of experience. How could you be so careless as to make such a mistake?"

Sylvia's sobs grew more heart-wrenching.

Tears choking her voice, she continued, "Miss Elliott, why are you so cruel?"

Onlookers at the door, drawn by the noise, now pointed at Lacey with disdain and discussed among themselves.

Enduring the pain in her wrist, Lacey turned to look at Callan.

Callan knitted his brows, noticing the negative comments about Lacey. He was about to intervene, but Sylvia cut him off.

"Callan, it's really painful. It hurts so much..."

His attention was drawn to the reddened spot on Sylvia's forehead.

Sylvia, pampered from a young age, couldn't bear even this minor injury.

With a look of worry, Callan asked, "Is it that bad?"

"It's killing me!" Sylvia replied, tears rolling down like pearls.

Lacey felt a tightness in her chest as she watched the scene.

Clearly, Callan only cared about Sylvia.

A bitter smile crossed Lacey's face. She yearned to leave this place, not wanting to see any more of Callan and Sylvia's closeness.

But she felt breathless the moment she took a step.

She had skipped both breakfast and lunch. Now, she felt dizzy, her steps unsteady. She almost tripped and fell.

Callan noticed her wavering balance. He released Sylvia and began to move towards Lacey.

"Ah, it hurts so much, Callan..."

Realizing she was losing Callan's attention, Sylvia intensified her act of distress and clung to Callan.

Callan's expression turned into a frown, but he had no choice but to help Sylvia. He escorted her out.

Rubbing her temples, Lacey watched as Callan walked away. She couldn't stop herself and called out, "Callan..."

"I need to take Sylvia to the hospital first," Callan said, not turning back to Lacey. He continued to help Sylvia as they left.

Lacey stood there, watching Callan and Sylvia until they were out of sight. Only then did she release her wrist, looking down at the bright red burn on it.

She was in pain too.