Chapter 3The Last Canvas

I woke up in the hospital a week later. My hands were heavily bandaged.

“Still hurting?”

Ethan looked completely normal, as if nothing had happened. He carefully scooped up a spoonful of lukewarm soup and held it to my lips.

“What’s the point of sitting in a dusty studio all day? When you’ve healed, I’ll get you a great executive position, or you can travel abroad to clear your head. Let’s not be mad at each other anymore, okay?”

It was rare for him to be this comforting. He was probably worried I’d make a scene and ruin his wedding with Hailey.

SMASH!

I knocked the bowl away.

Ethan’s hands froze mid-air.

I swung my legs off the bed, ignoring the throbbing pain, and started to change my clothes.

Ethan’s face darkened, but his eyes widened with alarm when he saw blood seeping through my bandages. “This is no time to be dramatic. Your hands can’t be moved!”

“It’s none of your business. I don’t need your pity.”

“You are my wife! How is it not my business?”

“Not for long.” I didn't look at him. “You and Hailey can have your life.”

Ethan’s eyes were wide.

I tore off the bandages he’d wrapped. The pain was breathtaking. But I wanted all connection with him gone.

Ethan’s face was stone-cold as he hit the emergency bell. A swarm of nurses rushed in and pinned me back onto the bed.

“Ethan Vance, you’ll burn in hell!” I screamed, blood spurting from my hands, cursing him with every ounce of air in my lungs.

Ethan looked away. “Clara, I know this is hard to accept. Stay here and heal. You will always be my wife in name.”

“I’ve assigned my secretary, Chen, to look after you. You can ask him for anything.”

Ethan instructed Chen, “Take her phone.”

I struggled, I roared, I hurled every curse word I knew.

But it was useless.

I was confined to the room, forced to “accept” his generous treatment.

It wasn't long before I understood why he was so desperate for me to heal:

The wedding portrait went viral.

While people marveled at the piece, others voiced suspicion:

“Doesn't that style look exactly like Clara Reynolds’s?” “Don't you know? Hailey Carter started by copying Clara. She’s known in the art world as ‘Mini-Clara.’” “Seriously, what miracle pill did she take? This portrait is an exact copy, almost like the original artist painted it!” “Hold up, isn’t this actually Clara’s work? And isn't that the CEO of Vance Corp? Wasn't he engaged to Clara…?” “This feels really creepy…”

I guessed Hailey was due for another “episode.”

Sure enough, Ethan reappeared in my room.

“Hailey is devastated by the online accusations. I’m hosting a dinner tonight to ease her mind. I’m giving you a chance to apologize to her.”

Chen, the secretary, respectfully held out a bridesmaid dress.

Seeing me turn away, Ethan cleared his throat. “Cooperate tonight, and I’ll let you leave the hospital and go home to see your parents.”

My heart clenched. I hadn't seen them in ages—not because I didn't want to, but because I couldn't. After Ethan had "mistakenly" thought I was Hailey that night, he settled my parents' debt, but used the excuse of "protecting us from the loan sharks" to forbid me from seeing them freely.

Ethan knew my weakness. He always did.

Half an hour later, I was in the bridesmaid dress, standing at the dinner party.

The table was filled with art critics and gallery owners. Hailey and Ethan sat together at one end. There was no seat for me.

“Clara, I need you to publicly explain why you stole Hailey’s art.” Ethan’s voice was unnervingly calm.

I stared at him. “I stole whose art?”

Ethan glared at me.

“You’ve always been jealous of Hailey and intentionally mimicked her style. It’s okay. Just apologize publicly. Admit that all your past work was actually hers. Hailey is very generous; she will forgive you.”

Ethan turned to Hailey. “Haiz, you agree, right?”

Hailey’s eyes welled up. “Actually, Ethan, you don’t need to do this for me. I’m used to being slighted. Clara is your fiancée. Whatever she does to me, I deserve it. I don’t have the right…”

Ethan cut her off, his voice laced with resentment. “You have me now. What are you afraid of?”

So, this was it. Ethan was going to strip away my entire career and hand it to Hailey so she could be perfect. Of course. Who would tolerate an imperfect partner?

The critics began murmuring: “Her copied work is better than the original? How is that possible?” “It makes more sense that Hailey copied Clara.”

Amidst the growing whispers, Hailey maintained a polite smile, but her hand was trembling under the table. Ethan’s face began to turn black.

He dragged me out into the hallway before I could speak.

“Clara, forget admitting to copying.”

Seeing my confusion, Ethan spoke slowly. “You’re going to say that all your work was stolen.”

“?!”

I forgot how to be angry.

Ethan touched his nose. “You should realize by now: this dinner is to validate Hailey’s claim as a legitimate artist.”

“I’ve worked hard keeping your parents’ loan sharks at bay. I took a lot of heat. Don’t you think you should do something for me?”

The blood drained from my face. “You’re threatening me?”

“Let’s not use that ugly word.” Ethan was sickeningly elegant.

“You miss your parents’ gallery, don't you? If you handle this right, I promise to rebuild the gallery for your parents.”

He was confident. “This is your one chance. Don't waste it.”

My mind exploded.

It wasn't just filial piety. My obsession with that gallery was because it was where Ethan and I first met.

When he first saw me, I was lost in my work, the studio quiet, the brush gliding across time. He told me he fell for my concentration instantly.

When the gallery went bankrupt, my parents knelt amidst the ruins, pleading with me to go to Ethan. That night, I went to Ethan’s bed. The next day, I became the CEO’s fiancée.

I went willingly. Ethan never knew that night, as my eyes focused on the canvas, my heart was already a mess. When he paused outside the gallery in his tailored suit, he paused my heart, too.

These secrets, these hopes. He was taking them all and using them as fuel for Hailey’s fire.

Ethan Vance. You are something else.