I Made Him Famous, He Chose His Mistress

After I closed the sponsorship deal for Mark Delgado's exhibition, my stomach started bleeding and I collapsed on the curb.

I clung to the last thread of consciousness and called him. All I got was a busy signal, over and over.

The next second, a notification popped up on my social feed.

His new protégée had posted a risqué photo, the sensitive parts barely covered by little strawberry stickers.

Frowning, I swiped right to the next one.

Same girl, different pose. Only this time the background was the floral-print bedsheets I'd swapped onto the bed before leaving that very morning.