I Painted our Marriage, Cheating was His Masterpiece novel

I was a popular digital artist with millions of followers online. until my daughter was accused of plagiarizing a classmates painting. The bullying got so bad that she fell from the sixth floor and ended up in a coma.
When I went to her school to demand justice, someone secretly filmed me, twisted the story, and posted it online. Suddenly, I was branded as an artist who bullied a child. Some people have even accused my original works of plagiarizing other artists.
In the blink of an eye, the internet turned on me, harassing me relentlessly. Everyone told me that my daughter and I should just die.
Only my husband, Winslow Weinstein, stood by my side. He told me to stay at his familys old villa in the countryside, away from the internet, to take care of our daughter and prove myself through my paintings.
My heart finally calmed. I gave up everything and moved to that quiet place, with my daughter and my paintbrushes as my company.
But when I took her back to the city for a checkup two years later, I saw something that shattered me.
On a giant screen downtown, my best friend was standing under the spotlight, accepting an international awardwith my painting in her hand. And there, in the front row, clapping proudly for her was my husband.
They had become a famous couple in the art industry, adored by the public.
In disbelief, I rushed to Winslows office, desperate for an explanationonly to hear breathy laughter and gasps from behind the door.
My best friend giggled and said, Winslow if you hadnt given me those original sketches all those years ago, Id never be where I am now. But what if your wife finds out? She might get mad. Oh, and about our sonhe didnt mean to bully her daughter. Who knew the girl would be so sensitive? It was just a few harsh words; she didnt have to throw herself off a building.
Winslow gave a quiet laugh, his tone lazy and unconcerned. I never blamed her for secretly painting under some fake name online. She loves me too much to ever be mad at me. And as for Elora Merry spoiled that girl herself.
The more I listened, the colder I felt.
I had never imagined that the person who stole my art was the man I loved most and that the one who drove my daughter to jump was my best friends son!
Fighting back my tears, I dialed my foster brothers number.
Merry? His familiar voice came through the phone. Whats wrong?
My voice trembled.
Leroy I want a divorce. Will you take me away?
1
Alright. My foster brother paused. When he spoke again, there was something in his voice I couldnt name. Ill help you get the divorce. But on one conditionafter that, I want you to take Elora and live with me.
I agreed without hesitation.
Every worry, softness, and naive hope Id carried for years fell apart in that instant.
He told me he had already spoken to a lawyer. If everything went smoothly, the divorce papers could be ready by tomorrow. Once Winslow finished signing the papers, we would only need to wait seven days before our marriage would officially end.
The thought cut through me on the inside, but I didnt regret my choice.
After hanging up, I quietly returned to my daughters hospital room.
Not long after, Winslow arrived, clearly after receiving a call. His shirt was crisp, his hair freshly combed, but I could still smell the faint sweetness of Erins perfume clinging to him.
I wanted to shout at him. I wanted to ask him why he had done it and why he had betrayed me.
But I couldnt lose control. Not when I needed this divorce to end smoothly.
So I forced my voice to stay even. Hey, when I came to the hospital, I saw Erin accepting an international award with one of my paintings under her name. Do you know whats going on?
Merry, its all a misunderstanding. Let me explain.
A flash of irritation crossed his face, but he quickly softened, grabbing my hand affectionately as if to soothe me.
Disgust quickly burned up my throat, and I couldn't help but shove his hand away.
A misunderstanding? Two years ago, I was accused of plagiarism while everyone called her the real artist behind my work. Now, shes stolen my paintings again, signed her name on them, and won an award. Everyone saw it happen. You still call that a misunderstanding?
Ive made up my mind, I said firmly. Im going to sue her. What she did was fraud.
By then, the anger Id been holding back broke through.
Winslows gaze darkened. He held my shouldersnot roughly, but his words were heavy.
Merry, calm down. Theres no need to involve the courts. The name issue was an accident. The Rothwells were short on money back then. When Erin posted your paintings online, people simply assumed they were hers. Thats how she got those gallery invitations.
She was just blinded by greed back then, pretending to be you to make money, he added. But shes your best friend, isnt she? You wouldnt mind something like that, right?
I almost lost my shit. Friend? Would a friend steal from me? Tell me the truth, Winslow. Two years ago, when Elora was accused of plagiarism Was it Erin who did it?
He looked at me in shock. Of course not. Youre imagining things, sweetheart. What happened to Elora was just an unfortunate accident, he denied in the most coaxing tone.
At that moment, the man standing before me felt like a stranger.
If I hadnt clearly overheard every word he and Erin said in his office, I might have been fooled by his good-husband fa?ade again.
Suddenly, the door opened a little. Erin stepped in, her eyes red and swollen. Her face was a picture of fragility.
She reached for my hand, saying, Merry, Im so sorry. You know I didnt want this. My family was falling apart back then. I only took your painting because I was desperate for money. Please understand me. Were best friends, arent we? I promise, Ill clear things up later.
Being betrayed on my face by my husband and my best friend left me too numb to speak.
Talk it over like sisters, Winslow said. Then, he excused himself to get some meds, leaving us alone.
The moment the door closed, Erins face quickly twisted into a smirk.
Lets stop pretending, Merry. You heard everything. Yes, I slept with your husband. Yes, I took your paintings. What are you going to do about it?
And your daughters painting? The one she was accused of copying? Your husband gave it to my son himself two years ago. Thats why everyone called your daughter a plagiarist. She clicked her tongue. Honestly, those kids at school werent wrong. Your daughter was a little slut who got what she deserved when she jumped.
Bitch!
I didnt want to respond to her provocation, but rage consumed me. I raised my hand and struck her across the face.
The sound echoed in the room, and the force made her stagger back.
She clutched her cheek, her eyes welling instantly. Suddenly, her voice turned small and aggrieved. Merry, why would you hit me? I already apologized
The door suddenly burst open, and Winslow roared, Merry! What the hell did you do?!
He rushed back in and shoved me aside. Erin already apologized! What more do you want?!
The push sent me off balance. My hip hit the corner of the table hard, and I gasped at the sharp pain that shot through me.
It wasnt me! I shouted back in defense. It was her! She said those things about Elora. She called her
The filthy word stuck in my throat.
But Winslow didnt care; he drew Erin into his arms, concern written all over his face until he turned to me.
Merry, Im warning you. Calm down before I lose my patience with you. Youre acting like a lunatic right now.

The door slammed shut behind me.
I sat down on the edge of the bed, too drained to even cry.
My mind drifted back over the past two years. When Winslow sent me and my daughter to the countryside, he promised, Ill protect you both from the outside world. Just live in peace.
He promised to handle the scandal for us, to give me a quiet space where I could focus on painting and taking care of our daughter without worrying about anything else.
And I did everything he told me to do. I cut off all contact with the outside world, logged off my social media, closed every window, and shrank my life down to a single corner of that old villa.
He visited us regularly. He always brought gifts I liked, held me gently, kissed my forehead, and told me about everything he was doing for us.
I found the best doctor for our daughter. Ive arranged every step of her treatment.
Ive talked to the publisher. Theyll handle your manuscripts quickly so nothing gets in the way of your creative work.
Your artworks are back online. No ones criticizing you anymore.
For a long time, I truly believed he was not only my husband but also my protector.
I thought as long as our family stayed united, life would eventually get better, and all the accusations against me and my daughter would be buried in the past.
All these years, he had been the center of my lifemy steady support, the one person I trusted completely, without a single doubt.
God, I never imagined that this same man Id given all my trust to, the one I relied on more than anyone, would secretly steal my paintings and give them to someone else I once considered my best friend!
He had lied to me for two freaking years!
The urge to run to the police burned inside me. I wanted to throw every piece of evidence into the light of day.
But I thought of my daughter still lying in that hospital bed, so I forced myself to stay quiet. Until the divorce was final, I couldnt risk tipping him off.
My phone suddenly lit up. It was a notification about an email from the publishing house that had been persistently trying to reach me for the past two years.
[Weve always believed your work is original. If youre ready to publish, our doors are open to you anytime.]
Those words pierced through my despair like a thin ray of light.
My fingers trembled slightly on the keyboard on the screen.
For my daughters sake, I could hold myself back from exposing Erin right now. But one day, I would make sure the truth came out.
Still, when I thought about those paintingseach one drawn stroke by stroke through countless sleepless nights, every piece a little world I created for my little girland how Erin took them to build her and her sons so-called genius mother-and-son image, using my love for my daughter to win applause, I felt so disgusted with hatred I almost threw up.
I immediately replied to the publisher.
[I want to publish my work now.]
I attached a new painting I had finished recently, one Winslow hadnt even seen yet.
The editor replied almost instantly.
[Thats wonderful! Weve been waiting for this moment for so long.]
I didnt sleep that night. Excitement kept me awake. I thought it was finally the first step toward proving my worth.
But the next morning, the news shattered that hope.
[Genius Artist Erin Rothwells New Collection, The Light of the Whales Fall, Coming Soon!]
The featured image was unmistakablemy own painting, Moonlight Whale.
There was no need to ask how it happened.
Winslow must have had someone intercepting my submission!
I stood frozen, my throat tightening until no sound came out.
Then, the door opened, and he walked in, carrying my favorite dessert.
Merry, he said softly, did you see the news?
I stared at him, my voice raw. Winslow! That was my painting! I made it for Elora!
I know. He nodded, his expression terrifyingly calm. This time think of it as your compensation. You give up a few signatures on your paintings to make up for hitting Erin. Fair enough, right?
For a moment, I could only stare at him.
Compensation? I couldnt believe my ears; my heart felt like it had been stabbed clean through. Erin stole from me, destroyed my name, and you want me to compensate her?!
He sighed and reached out to smooth my hair, as if calming a child.
Come on, darling, dont be upset. The Rothwells are in a very difficult situation right now. Erin needs the money. Once things settle down, trust me; Ill make sure she returns the credit to you.
I stepped back, my tears spilling down my face beyond my will. You know how much those paintings mean to me!
Every piece I had drawn in the past two years carried my soul. Each was made with the desperate hope of proving myself again, each one as precious to me as a second child.
He knew that too well. And yet, he had casually given them away to another woman!
I gritted my teeth. For the first time, I realized this might have been who he was all alonga man who never truly cared about my passion at all.
I know, he murmured, stepping closer.
His voice softened further, yet the pressure grew more suffocating.
But darling, you have to understand, my mother still doesnt know youve been painting; Ive been hiding that fact from her for two years now. She believes a decent woman shouldnt waste her time on art. She nearly made me divorce you once because of it. If she finds out youre still doing that so-called low-class work, shell destroy you. And she wont spare Elora either.
Every word he spoke cut through me like knives.
He wrapped his arms around me, and though his embrace was familiar, I felt only coldness.
Darling, I love you. I dont want a divorce, he whispered near my ear. So lets just hold on a little longer, okay? Dont make my mom angry and tear us apart. When things calm down, Ill clear everything up.
Slowly, Ill help my mom understand that painting isnt something shameful for my wife to do, he added.
His voice was soft. His eyes looked sincere.
He looked like he truly loved me and was concerned for what was best for me.
But the more he spoke, the more nauseated I felt.
I tried to push him away, but his arms only tightened around me.
Merry, he murmured, just endure it a little longer, and everything will be like before. I promise.
The Rothwells have done so much for me before, he added. I cant just watch them fall now, you know.

But what about me?
Did helping the Rothwells have to come at the cost of hurting me?
Did he really have to steal my paintings to do it?
Why?!
I clenched my jaw, tears blurring my vision. My nails dug deep into my palms, the sting forcing me to hold myself together instead of exploding.
The man standing before me was once the one Id given everything up formy dreams, my sense of self, all for love.
For Winslow, I learned etiquette, small talk, how to dress, and how to speak properly. I transformed from a free-spirited artist into the perfect wife everyone expected me to be.
When his mother sneered at my humble background, I buried every trace of my talent and learned how to smile gently and gracefully.
After Elora was born, I finally picked up my brush again, painting in secret in the quiet of the night. I posted my work anonymously online, craving just a little space where I still existed.
I thought Winslow understood me. He once told me my art had stories in itthat he believed in me, that I should never stop creating.
But now, hed given my art, my conviction, and my name to someone else. Hed trampled on everything I ever loved.
Under my breath, I whispered, Winslow, I dont want to love you anymore.
What? he asked, not quite hearing, though something uneasy flickered across his face.
He frowned slightly, his eyes soft and intent on me, as if hed accept anything I said.
But I said nothing more.
Instead, I swallowed the disgust rising in my throat and forced a quiet compromise.
Alright, I said. Ill do as you say.
Once the divorce papers were ready and he signed them, Id finally be free.
He smiled then, tucking the blanket around me.
Thats better. Dont think about anything else. Focus on getting better. Leave the rest to me.
Suddenly, the door opened, heels clicking against the floor. Erin walked in, looking radiant.
Her lips curved slightly, and then she said, Merry, since you agreed, Ill count on you to cooperate at my new book launch. You wont let me down in front of the reporters, right?
I lifted my head and looked at her. My heart bled slowly, inch by inch.
The woman before me was the only person I could call a friend in the first years after I married Wilson.
Back then, I was out of placea nobody trying to navigate the polished chaos of high society.
The first party I attended after marrying into the family had been humiliating. Id barely managed to get through the evening until Erin came over with that warm and easy smile, took my arm under everyones gaze, and raised her glass.
She was the one who taught me etiquette, how to talk, how to dress, and how to smile at the right people. She even coached me on how to handle Winslows relatives with grace.
Back then, I was awkward and grateful. I treated her like family.
Her life seemed perfecther husband successful, her son well-behaved.
Wed shop together often, and shed tease, Merry, with your charm, Winslow probably cant stand letting anyone else look at you too long.
Later, when our children attended the same school, shed suggest weekend trips together.
I still remember sitting on her lawn, watching her son chase Elora across the grass, the sunlight warm and kind.
She used to say, I really envy you, Merry. Winslow has changed so much since marrying you. Hes so gentle now.
I had trusted her completely like a best friend. Id shared everything, even the arguments between me and my husband that no one else knew.
Only much later did I find out she and Winslow had been childhood sweethearts.
Shed been there through every chapter of his lifeschool, startup business, everything.
At my wedding, she stood among the guests, smiling so beautifully that even my mother-in-law praised her for her grace.
Back then, I never suspected a thing.
Looking back now, that envy she spoke of had never been admiration. It was jealousy.
She lowered her gaze, her tone soft, almost tender.
For your precious daughter, she murmured, this small sacrifice of yours is nothing, isnt it?
I closed my eyes and pressed my nails into my palm until the pain steadied me.
Fine, I said quietly. Ill go.
Before the press conference began, I sat alone backstage. The lawyer handed me the revised divorce agreement.
For the first time in weeks, I felt a flicker of relief.
Across the room, Erin was surrounded by makeup artists.
Winslow stood beside her, leaning slightly to fix her collar.
Be careful on the steps. You dont want to trip again, he said gently.
That familiar gentle tone used to be mine.
But now, he was using it for another woman
I froze in place, unable to swallow the tightness in my throat.
From the front rows, fans whispered excitedly.
Oh my god! That CEO and Miss Erin really look perfect together!
Hes a business elite. Shes an artistic genius. Theyre made for each other.
I heard theyve been together for years, that theyre just keeping it a secret to avoid gossip
Then, someone laughed. That womanMerry, is it? She keeps hanging around Mr. Weinstein. Maybe shes trying to be the mistress.
My fingers trembled, nearly cutting into my skin.
Winslow had never once admitted publicly who his wife was.
Now, after I disappeared for two years, he and Erin appeared together so often that they had gained people who shipped them as a couple.
Now, Ithe legal wifehad become someone who was trying to be the other woman.
When all three of us appeared on the same stage, he didnt even bother to clarify anything.
After a while, the conference officially began.
Erin walked onstage, her hand resting on Winslows arm, glowing under the lights I used to dream about. Her smile was sweet and wide.
Ive always believed, she began, that art has no hierarchy. As long as theres love, it can create beauty.
Winslow smiled, patting her back lightly.
Seeing that, a reporter asked out loud, Mr. Weinstein, what do you think of Miss Erins work?
He smiled. Im very proud of her. Shes a woman I He paused, catching everyones attention. I greatly admire and an artist I deeply respect. She deserves everything she has today.
Applause broke out at his answer.
The flashing cameras cut into my heart, sharp as blades.
He once looked at me the same way, holding my hand as we walked down the aisle, calling me his greatest pride.
His touch had been warm then, and I felt safe.
But now, none of that belonged to me anymore.
I lowered my head, trying to make myself invisible.
But one reporter deliberately turned the spotlight on me.
Ms. Webberley. Whats your response to the plagiarism accusations online?
Erin feigned a wounded look, her eyes glistening.
Shes just very passionate about art, she cut in. I understand her. We were once the best of friends, and she used to help me refine my sketches. I cant clear up all the misunderstandings, but I truly hope she can move past all this.
Whispers rippled through the audience.
Didnt Merry just get famous off hype anyway?
I heard she tried to ruin someones marriage and got caught by the real wife, then was forced to leave the industry.
I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood. I forced myself to endure it all, pretending I didnt hear anything.
But then someone laughed and said something my ears couldnt just ignore.
Her daughter wasnt any better, was she? I heard she tried to seduce a classmate, got caught, and jumped to her death.

In an instant, I felt the blood in my veins run cold.
Before I even realized it, I was on my feet, kicking the table. It crashed to the floor with a startling thud, sending the glass of water shattering across the stage.
Gasps rippled through the crowd, flashes bursting from every direction.
I grabbed the paper cutter from the table and pressed it to my neck, drawing every pair of eyes toward me.
My daughter isnt dead! My voice was hoarse, trembling between fury and grief. You can insult me all you want, but you dont get to slander my child!
The room fell silent.
All of those paintings are mine! I cried, my voice breaking apart. Erin stole my work! I am the real artist of these paintings, and my daughter jumped because her son and his friends bullied her until she couldnt take it anymore!
Flashes went off again, blinding and relentless.
Some people took pictures, others laughed, and others shouted.
Erin clutched her chest and rushed toward me.
Merry, calm down! she cried, voice trembling as she ran onto the stage. She pressed a hand over my mouth, her other hand tangling painfully in my hair. How could you say that? We were best friends, werent we? How could you slander me like this?
I tried to push her away, but she pinned me down, her fingers digging into the fresh wound on my shoulder.
You bitch! she hissed under her breath.
Pain seared through me. I shoved back, but she suddenly lunged forward, and my footing slipped. The blade clattered to the floor.
Erin stumbled backward, pretending to reach for me, then lost her balance.
Ahhh!
Her scream cut through the noise as she fell down the stairs, her skirt billowing before she hit the ground below.
The reporters were alarmed.
Sh-Shes bleeding!
Oh my god! Shes pregnant?!
Chaos tore through the room.
Someone bumped into me hard, and pain shot through my shoulder. I just stood frozen, staring at the pool of red spreading across the floor.
Winslow pushed through the crowd and dropped to his knees beside Erin, frantically lifting her.
Erin, dont be afraid. Im here, he said, his voice trembling, his eyes worried.
Blood was all over his hands. He didnt even glance in my direction.
Winslow she sobbed weakly, barely conscious. The baby Our babys gone
The babys okay. The babys okay. Well get you to the hospital. Dont be scared, he replied, trying to calm her.
He lifted her into his arms, his eyes full of pain.
And I just stood there, staring at the bloodstains on the floor, my whole body cold.
The press surrounded me, mocking and condemning me like a relentless tide.
This woman lost her mind!
She wanted Miss Erin to miscarry!
What a monster!
I reached out, trying to explain, but before I could, Winslow finally looked at me.
That single glance froze me in place. It was sharper than any accusations.
Merry, he said in a low voice in between gritted teeth, youve really disappointed me this time.
I opened my mouth to defend myself, but he stepped forward and shoved me hard aside.
Lock her in the basement, he ordered his assistant coldly. Let her think about what shes done!
I hit the floor hard, the edge of the stair striking my arm. Pain exploded as the wound split open, blood tracing a slow path down my skin.
Winslow paused for a moment, as if wanting to say something, but then he swallowed it back.
Turning away, he carried Erin out, stumbling out of the crowd, disappearing in the blinding flashes.
I lay there, listening to the noise and chaos fading into the distance, until security dragged me away.
They took me back to the old villa.
The basement was dim, the single lightbulb above me flickering weakly.
They threw me inside and slammed the door shut with a loud bang.
I curled up on the cold floor, shaking uncontrollably with every breath.
It was deep into the night when I finally heard Winslows low and restrained voice outside the door.
Merry, you were too impulsive! Erin lost the baby because of you! Stay here and think about what youve done!
A bitter laugh broke from my throat, the sound scraping raw. I was laughing until tears blurred my eyes.
Her miscarriage has nothing to do with me.
He fell silent until his tone broke with anger and loss of control.
Whether it has or has not, shes innocent. You lost your shit in front of the press and brought scandal to the company! Merry I really cant protect you anymore.
I leaned back against the cold wall, my eyes emptying of warmth as I listened to his footsteps retreating and fading down the hall.
I lifted my head, looking up at the flickering bulb overhead.
It blinked again and again, each flash reflecting the blood that covered my hands.

The basement air was cold and damp. Id been locked inside for three days.
My stomach twisted in pain, my head spinning badly.
I lost track of time long ago, measuring the hours only by the faint light that filtered through the tiny window above me. When it dimmed, I guessed it was night. When it brightened again, I told myself morning had come.
On the third night, my body couldnt hold on anymore. Everything went dark.
When I woke up, I found myself lying in a hospital room.
The antiseptic smell stung my nose. A needle was taped to the back of my hand, IV fluid dripping rhythmically into my vein. My throat burned dry like fire.
Through the half-open door, I heard two nurses whispering in the hallway.
Did you hear? Mr. Weinstein is so good to Miss Erin.
I know, right? Last night, he sent her nine hundred and ninety-nine rosesfilled the whole corridor with the scent.
I heard from the doctor that shes been emotionally unstable since the miscarriage. Hes been with her every night, making her soup himself and personally feeding her.
Gosh! If a man ever treated me like that, Id die happy.
Their voices faded into the background as I stared at the ceiling, counting the slow drips from the IV bag.
Nine hundred and ninety-nine roses
He had done that for me once, too, back when we were still dating.
At the time, I was still living off commissions in a cramped studio. Hed shown up on my birthday carrying an armful of red roses, smiling gently and with certainty.
Merry, hed said, I want to give you all the romance this world has.
Id believed in that warmth. In his promises. In his love.
Now, I knew the truthhis romance was something he could recycle, word for word, gesture for gesture.
He could easily give the same flowers, the same words, the same tenderness to another woman.
What he left for me was nothing but an IV line and the dull ache of betrayal.
A quiet laugh escaped my lips, followed by tears that trailed slowly across my pillow.
The strangest thing was, I felt calm.
A little while later, the door opened, and Winslow stepped inside.
He looked tiredhis shirt wrinkled, his brow tightly furrowed, as if suppressing anger.
Youre finally awake, he began. There wasnt a hint of concern in his tone, and he went on bluntly to reprimand me. Do you have any idea what kind of chaos youve caused?
I turned my head toward him, my face expressionless.
The press conferencepublic opinions still blowing up, he continued coldly. Because of your outburst, Erins being harassed by her fans. They want proof shes the real artist. Shes under a lot of stress. She just lost the baby; shes weak. Now, youre going to apologize. Record a statement; clear her na
I cut him off, my throat hoarse. Her baby It was yours, wasnt it?
He froze. His expression faltered, but he didnt deny it.
The silence hurt more than anything he couldve said.
I closed my eyes, feeling the last bit of strength drain from my body.
After a long pause, he exhaled and muttered, It was an accident.
An accident? I repeated inwardly, almost laughing. So now you want me to apologize to your mistress?
Dont be so stubborn, Merry, he said with a frown, his patience running low. What matters now is controlling the public narrative. Erin is in a fragile condition; shes already been through enough. Just record a video, clarify what happened, say you were emotional that day Thats all Im asking.
I looked at him coldly. And if I dont?
His expression hardened. Whatever patience he had left disappeared.
Then Ill cut off Eloras oxygen, he spat. You know what that means. A daughter in a coma means nothing to this family. The only reason shes still alive is that I love you. But if my parents find out
My entire body went still. My heart gave a painful lurch, then went numb.
He pulled out his phone and held it in front of me.
On the screen, a live feed showed my daughter lying unconscious in her hospital bed, a nurse quietly adjusting the tubes beside her.
Ill give you three seconds to think, Merry, he warned.
I stared at the screen, every muscle in my body trembling.
My heart felt numbbeyond pain, beyond fear.
I regretted everythingbringing Elora into the Weinsteins life and for giving her a father who could do something like this.
All I wanted now was to take her and disappear from his life forever.
Two seconds passed. Then, I lifted my gaze, my voice steady and frighteningly calm.
Fine. Ill record it.
Some of the tension eased from his face.
I looked down, pretending to think, and added quietly, But I want a house in my name. Elora needs somewhere to live.
He frowned, but it didnt last a second before he nodded. Fine.
I gestured to the lawyer waiting outside the door. He stepped in and handed over a folder.
The document looked like a property purchase agreementbut it was really the divorce papers I had prepared weeks ago.
Winslow signed without even skimming the content. Once you finish recording, Ill handle the paperwork, he said.
Glancing at the signed paper, I nodded slowly.
Under his watch, I picked up his phone and started recording.
About what happened at the press conference, I said, forcing a smile, I made a mistake. Erin Rothwell has always been my closest friend. I misunderstood her. I hope everyone can forgive my outburst that day. Please pretend it never happened.
When it was done, I stopped the recording, handed the phone back to his assistant, and walked toward the door without another word.
Merry! Winslow called after me.
I didnt look back.
He caught my wrist, his grip firm. What are you doing?
I turned and met his gaze with calm and detachment. Let go.
He hesitated. For a split second, panic flashed in his eyes as if he had suddenly realized that I was no longer the woman who would soften at his words.
I pulled my hand free, opened the door, and left. The sound of it closing behind me cut the air cleanly.
I went straight to the lawyers office to submit the papers, then headed to the hospital.
The hallway outside my daughters room was quiet, the door slightly ajar. I reached out and pushed it open.
A chill ran through me as my gaze locked on the scene insidea teenage boy, his body pressed against my daughters fragile, unmoving frame!

It was Erins sonDewey.
His hand was still on my daughters mouth, his face twisted into a grotesque grin.
Dont touch her!
I lunged forward and shoved him off the bed, grabbing his collar with both hands.
Youre crazy! he shouted, thrashing in my grip. You bitch! How dare you hit me?!
Stay away from my daughter!
I snatched the flower vase from the bedside table and hurled it to the floor. The glass shattered, scattering shards across the tiles.
My pulse was pounding so violently I could barely breathe. If I had come even a minute later, I didnt dare imagine what he might have done.
He went pale but forced a smirk, still pretending to be fearless.
Soon after, the sound of hurried footsteps filled the hallway.
Whats going on here?
Winslow and Erin appeared at the door.
The moment Dewey saw them, he suddenly transformed into a different boy completely. Tears welled up in his eyes, his expression turning pitiful and frightened.
Dad! This old woman tried to sleep with me!
Winslow froze.
For a moment, I couldnt move. My mind went blank. What did he just say?
She wanted to take revenge on you! Dewey cried, hiding behind his mother. She said she was going to ruin me and Mom!
Erins eyes filled with tears. She clutched her chest, looking weak and heartbroken. Merry, when your daughter seduced my son before, we let it go out of respect for you. And now, youre trying to hurt him again?
It was him! My voice trembled uncontrollably. He was taking off Eloras clothes
Enough!
Winslows hand struck my face before I even saw it coming, the sound punctuating the air.
The force of it snapped my head to the side. I felt my cheek throb, and a high-pitched ringing filled my ears.
Merry! he roared, his eyes bloodshot. When will you stop? What were you trying to do to this boy, huh? You and your daughter are really disgusting!
I stood frozen, one side of my face still burning.
Erin covered her mouth and began to cry. Winslow, let her go. Shes pitiful enough. Merry, I dont blame you. Youre just too hurt to think straight, arent you?
Her false sympathy pierced through me, making it hard to breathe.
Winslows expression had hardened completely. The tenderness and patience he pretended to have were gone.
Merry. His voice came out low and strained, each word forced through his throat. Youve disappointed me beyond words.
A chill ran through me. Instinctively, I moved to shield my daughter, pulling the hospital bed a little closer to me. The monitor beside her flashed with a weak green light, her chest rising and falling faintly, as if she were fighting just to keep breathing.
Winslows gaze shifted toward the machine. His eyes were void of warmth as if he were no longer human. Step by step, he walked closer until he stood beside the bed, staring at the oxygen tube that kept my child breathing.
My heart clenched. W-What are you gonna do? I asked, my voice shaking.
He didnt answer. He simply reached out and took hold of the clear tubing.
Winslow The words tore out of me, half-choked.
When he finally spoke, his tone was eerily calm. If you dont want your daughter to suffer, then apologize to Erin and Dewey.
For a second, I couldnt even understand what I was hearing. You want me to apologize to them? I could barely utter the words. They destroyed my daughters life, and you want me to apologize to them?!
His expression turned darker still, the veins in his eyes bright red.
He looked at me like I was something filthy. His voice was cold, almost detached.
You still dont see it, Merry, do you? Youre the one who destroyed this family. You ruined Erin. You killed her child. You dont deserve to speak as if youre the victim!
I felt my body tremble all over.
Shattered glass glittered on the floor under the fluorescent light, tiny fragments catching and reflecting every breath of movement.
The air felt too quiet, too heavy.
I bit my lip until I tasted blood. I wont apologize.
I couldnt. Not to them. Not after they destroyed us.
And I couldnt believe that the man standing in front of me was about to harm his own flesh and blood.
Winslow didnt pause for even a second. With a sharp twist of his wrist, the oxygen mask tore free!
Eloras body convulsed. Her chest heaved in short, frantic gasps, the monitors lights flaring wildly as the steady rhythm of her heartbeat crashed in wild disorder.
The alarm from the machine pierced through the silence, cold and merciless, shrieking through my daughters room.

Winslow! Stop it! Thats enough!
I rushed over like a madwoman, but he shoved me away. I stumbled, almost falling.
Im begging you!! I cried, grabbing his hand desperately. Shes your daughter!
My daughter? He sneered, teeth clenched. Shes a living corpse now. Tell me, what part of her looks like my daughter now?
The words froze me. My whole body went cold.
Eloras breathing grew more and more rapid. I couldnt care about anything else anymore; I dropped to my knees with a thud.
Shards of glass pierced my skin. Blood pooled beneath me, trickling down my legs, but I felt nothing.
I crawled toward him, clutching at his pant leg, voice breaking.
Im begging you, spare her Ill apologize. Ill take it all back. I was wrong I begged. Im sorry Im sorry please, spare my daughter go
My voice broke apart as I sobbed until I could barely breathe.
Erin stood beside Winslow, her hand resting delicately on his arm. Her eyes gleamed with satisfaction before she lowered them, schooling her face into sympathy.
Merry, you dont have to do this. I dont blame you, she murmured.
I looked up at her through tears that blurred the edges of her face.
Time stretched unbearably. Then, Winslow finally muttered two words. Thats enough.
Hearing that, the doctors rushed forward, reconnecting the oxygen mask.
The shrill alarm from the monitor began to slow, then faded into steady beeps again.
I clung to the side of the bed, my fingers bloodless and stiff, while the pool beneath me spread wider on the floor.
Erin seemed satisfied. She sighed, pretending to be weak, and leaned on her son for support. Winslow, Im not feeling well. Lets go.
He nodded. Alright.
When he turned toward me, irritation flashed in his eyes. Doctor, take care of her leg.
Im not leaving, I said, my voice barely above a whisper. Im staying with Elora.
He frowned, his tone carrying something that almost sounded like concern. Merry, look at yourselfyou can barely stand. You need help.
I lifted my head, my throat hoarse as I insisted, I said Im not leaving.
For a moment, he went quiet. Then, his jaw tightened again, and the next second, warmth vanished from his face.
Fine. Suit yourself.
He turned and walked out, his footsteps echoing down the hall until there was nothing left but the steady beeping of the monitor.
After that night, Winslow didnt come back.
I stayed by Eloras side, refusing to leave even for a moment.
Day and night blurred together. Sometimes, when the room was silent and still, her fingers would twitch, just barelyand that tiny movement was the only thing keeping me breathing.
I prayed she would wake up. And yet, deep down, I was terrified. I was terrified that if she opened her eyes, she would see the man her father had become and break all over again.
Every day, I could hear the nurses whispering just outside the door.
I heard Mr. Weinstein took Miss Erin to Baltimore for her art exhibit.
Yeah, I saw it on the news. He even threw a celebration party for her with flowers covering an entire wall.
That artist is really lucky. She lost his baby, but somehow shes even more loved now.
Their voices were full of envy.
I sat by the bed and listened quietly, my heart no longer stirring.
I remembered how Winslow once waited an hour early for every date, holding a bouquet of daisiesmy favorite flowers.
He once said something that sounded so romantic to a painter.
Oh, Merry, the worlds you paint are so pure. If I could, Id live inside them with you forever.
Now, I knew those words were nothing more than fabricated sweet talk.
I no longer held any expectations for him.
On the seventh night, my phone rang. It was my lawyer.
Miss Merry, the divorce is finalized. Sir Leroys private jet is waiting for you on the rooftop.
I turned to my daughter. She lay peacefully, lashes trembling faintly, as if still lost in a beautiful dream.
I leaned down and pressed my lips to her forehead.
Elora, I whispered, Moms taking you home.
The midnight wind howled across the rooftop, cold enough to pierce bone.
The private jet sat beneath the floodlights, its cabin door slowly opening.
I looked back once at the hospital building.
That place had been my prison. Finally, now, it was over.
Taking my phone from my pocket, I removed the SIM card.
Between my fingers, it felt lighter than air. I let it go, and the wind carried it into the dark, spinning until it vanished.
From this night forward, Winslow and I would have nothing left between us.
But I swore that one day, he and Erin would pay for what they had done!