Kathy stood nearby, ink bottle in hand, looking insufferably pleased with herself.
"Two whole years you spent on that painting. Let's see how you'll show off in front of Austin now."
I was livid. My hand flew before I could think, cracking across her face.
"You're always spreading rumors that I make you work like a servant," I said coldly. "Fine. For the next three days, you'll actually be one. Clean up my gallery until it sparkles."
But the moment the words left my mouth, the door burst open.
Austin strode in, his brow furrowed. Without a word, he pulled Kathy behind him.
"Pearl, can you control that temper of yours for once?" His voice was ice. "Kathy tries so hard. Yes, she comes from a difficult background—but why do you insist on targeting her?"
My chest heaved with fury. "Austin, get your facts straight. She started—"
Before I could finish, Kathy threw herself into his arms, sobbing.
"Austin, it's all my fault! I was just trying to help Pearl clean her studio, and I accidentally ruined her painting. She said she'd sell me to the red-light district! She called my mother a whore and said the apple didn't fall far from the tree!"
Her voice cracked, tears streaming down her face—the picture of wounded innocence.
"I can take being hit. I can take being yelled at. But why does she have to drag my mother into this?"
Austin didn't ask for my side. Didn't investigate. He simply believed her.
His gaze turned frigid. "Pearl, when did you become this person? I'm disappointed in you."
I wanted to scream.
Even with Austin defending her, I refused to back down. For three days, Kathy scrubbed and swept like the servant she'd pretended to be.
When it was over, Austin acted as if nothing had happened. He just sighed—light, dismissive.
"That temper of yours, Pearl. When will you learn to let things go? It was just a painting."
"You've had your revenge. Let's move on."
I was naive enough to believe we had.
A few days later, news broke that Austin's company had collapsed.
He was arrested shortly after, leaving me to deal with the wreckage.
At first, I wasn't worried. Even if the Vance family fell, I still had my parents.
I called them immediately.
Both numbers had been disconnected.
Panic clawed at my throat.
I rushed home, only to have Graham meet me at the door, his face ashen.
The day they heard about Austin's arrest, my parents had raced back to help. A landslide caught their car on the mountain road.
Neither survived.
In a single night, my world collapsed.
No husband. No parents. No one left to lean on.
I sold everything I owned and moved into a damp basement, hiding from the debt collectors who'd bought up Austin's gambling IOUs.
Sleep became impossible. I'd lie awake, flinching at every sound.
Eventually, they found me.
A group of men kicked down my door, armed with metal pipes.
They shattered two of my ribs. Broke my wrist so badly I could never hold a brush again.
It took three years to accept my fate.
I gave up everything—my art, my pride, my dreams—just to survive.
And now I was being told it was all a lie.
Austin's "punishment" had stripped me raw, peeled away everything I was, and rebuilt me into someone I didn't recognize.
My phone buzzed.
A message from Austin.
"Pearl, I'm being released in three days. Don't forget to pick me up."
My fingers tightened around the phone until my knuckles went white. A dull ache spread through my chest.
Even now, he was still playing his games.
He was already at his birthday party. I'd seen it with my own eyes.
He'd been holding Kathy, celebrating, surrounded by an enormous cake and beautiful decorations.
And yet he was still treating me like a fool.
I stared at those words until tears blurred my vision.
Then I blinked them away and read the message again.
