ra

rough the sudden silence. Her key charm glinted, a cruel mockery of th

t ping. Clutching the sharp edges of the broken metal, I lunged. The painting, "Key to My Heart," was right there. I screamed,

ng into a chaotic mess, just like my life. Chaos erupted. Security guards rushed me, their hands grabbing, pulling, pressing me to the cold marble floor.

of horror and disgust, their eyes glinting with a cold disdain. It was the same look they had given me five years ago,

d and steady, without a trace of remorse. "Sh

lled the entire gallery, bouncing off the high ceilings. It was a terrifying sound, I knew, b

ll, something shifted. The rage burned itself out, replaced by a quiet, fierce resolve. I was done with them. Done with the past. I would rebuild. I had to. For my mother. For my

he air, I felt a strange sense of déjà vu. Hailey had excused herself to

For the way things ended. For the exhibition. I know I handled it badly. Hailey... she can be a littl

uine remorse, or another calculated move? I couldn't tell. "There's no need, Camden," I said

irror, held a flicker of something I couldn't

he awkward silence, the veiled apologies, the raw emotions, had never happened. "So, fire pot,

pot. Her stomach gets upset easily. Remember how she would always stic

I said, a small, genuine smile gracing my lips

screen glowed, displaying a single word: "Husband." My heart fluttered, not wi

id, my voice softer th

told a group of teenagers he saw me flirting with a barista. Can you believe

tched voice. "Dad-dy! She was totally smil

fully scolded, but I could hear the love in his voice, the joy

eyes, a slight, knowing smile. Christian. My husband. The CEO of Brennan Enterprises, one of the largest tech conglomera

nded the call, sending the picture to Christi

re frozen. Their faces were ashe

when? Who is he? Is he... is he good to you? Do you need anything? Like, financ

ried, Clara? Really? To whom? And where are you living? That old house you still own, the one that' s practically falling