I almost never touched that cake. I had told him—I was allergic to nuts. But Bruce just laughed and joked, “Sandra, you’re poor and still this high-maintenance?”
Then he ate the cake himself, savoring every bite.
At noon, I received another message.
[Villa 22, Cluster Estate. Come, you poor thing and see the difference between you and real people.]
Before, I would’ve ignored something like that. I was always too busy running delivery orders and trying to earn a living to play along with such pathetic games. But now, with my right hand useless, I couldn’t work even if I wanted to. So, I went.
As I reached the front door, I heard Bruce’s voice booming from inside.
“Let’s give a warm welcome to the queen herself, our rising star in ink painting—Miss Kate!”
I remembered how Bruce used to promise me the world. He said that when he got rich, he’d treat me like a princess. I pushed the door open and stepped inside. The moment Bruce saw me, he instinctively stepped away from Kate.
She pouted and whined, “Bruce, they’re saying you’re keeping some shameful little mistress on the side. Is it true?”
Bruce had never “kept” me. It was me—working three jobs a day just to support him. His so-called care only existed in those lies he spun like fairy tales. His expression darkened slightly. “Don’t listen to them. It’s not true.”
“Not true that you have someone,” she asked with a smirk, “or not true that you have a girlfriend?”
He hesitated, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. “I don’t have either. I told you—I only want to protect you as you grow up.”
Satisfied, Kate giggled sweetly. Then she looked at me, as if just noticing my presence.
“Oh? A disabled delivery girl?” she said with faux surprise. “This doesn’t seem like your kind of place. You weren’t invited, were you?”
Everyone in the room knew what was going on—but no one said a word. They all played dumb. Just like how Bruce had played me all along.
I sneered, my gaze locked on Bruce, my words sharp with meaning.
“I worked hard on my art, hoping my talent could give us a better life. I took on three jobs a day so we could afford our own home. I believed in my boyfriend—because I loved him.”
Bruce’s hand clenched into a fist, his knuckles turning white. My voice wavered with emotion as I continued, “But some people... some people don’t deserve love. Hypocrites don’t deserve someone’s sincerity.”
Just as I finished speaking, someone beside me snorted with laughter. “Poor girl, what you’re talking about? Bruce doesn’t lack any of that—he’s got houses, painting’s just a little trick he uses to charm our goddess and as for love... well, that comes whenever we want it.”
Laughter broke out around the room.
“That’s enough! Shut your mouths!” Bruce snapped coldly. “This is Kate’s birthday party. Don’t let some outsider ruin it.”
The moment he finished, I turned and walked out. Behind me, the music kicked back up again—lively, joyful, as if nothing had happened. My appearance today… was just like me in their eyes. Insignificant. A pest. Someone to be ignored, overlooked, laughed at.
But was that really true? If I didn’t matter at all, why did my one victory over Kate become her biggest obsession?
I looked down at my left hand, still perfectly fine. If I was her demon, then I certainly wouldn’t be so easy to exorcise.
Bruce never knew I could paint with both hands. He dated me for three years and still couldn’t remember my birthday unless I reminded him. So how would he ever notice something like that?
For the past six months, I’d been practicing in secret—learning to draw with my left hand whenever I had the time.
Back then, he always seemed heartbroken that I couldn’t paint anymore. I believed he truly cared, so I kept it a secret. I wanted to surprise him.
But now, I’m grateful I did. If he had known about my left hand, I’m sure he would’ve found a way to destroy that too. With his cruelty, he’d have done it without hesitation.
Five days ago, I mailed my mother’s keepsake along with some of my latest work. That very same day, her mentor replied.
