hort-term rental apartment. I bled. I cramped. I slept. My body mourned

op. The screen glowed in the dim room, a portal back to the pe

rl

que and compelling that corporations and wealthy collectors clamored for her work. Perla had no face, no voice, no

he wa

g noticed. Then I met Liam. He was dazzling, ambitious, a rising star in the tech world. He

nce, half-joking, after I landed a major contr

ego. So I retreated. I told the world I was giving up my career to be Mrs. Ava Vance.

astronomical fees, and created my best work. Liam, a man who prided himself on knowing everything about the tech and design world,

businesswoman. The woman Liam had thrown out with nothing was, in reality, wealthier than he co

x I had set up. It was from Liam' s lawyer. The final divorce decree. It was done. I

back a simple, one-sentence confirmation. No arguments. No last-minute ple

he wore a ridiculously large white dress, her hand on her belly, a smug smile on her face. Liam stood beside her, looking powerful and

uld block her, a message popped up. It was a picture of her hand, a massive dia

my phone and systematically deleted every contact related to my

rched on a cliff in a quiet coastal town hundreds of miles away. It had floor-to-ceilin

d in

-of-the-line computers, massive monitors, a drawing tablet that was my Excalibur. This wasn' t just a new house.