Divorced, I Became Mafia's Fake Wife

Where?

In the heart of Bellhollow, where the streets smelled of fresh bread and autumn leaves, stood a tiny clock shop. Its owner, Mr. Alden Finch, was a quiet man with silver-rimmed glasses and ink-stained fingers. His clocks were legendary—not for their precision, but for their peculiar effect: they could turn back time.

No one knew how they worked, though many whispered theories. Some claimed he had struck a deal with a forgotten god; others said he was a magician hiding in plain sight. Alden never confirmed or denied the rumors. He simply tinkered away in his dimly lit workshop, the steady tick-tick-tick of his creations filling the air.

One evening, a boy named Leo slipped into the shop. He was thin, with a mop of dark hair and eyes too old for his age. He carried a battered satchel and a desperate look.

“Mr. Finch,” he stammered, clutching the edge of the counter, “I need a clock.”

Alden peered at him over his glasses. “What for, young man?”

Leo hesitated, then pulled out a small bundle. Inside was a broken pocket watch. “It belonged to my father,” he said quietly. “He… he died last month. If I could just go back—just for a moment—I need to say goodbye.”