Chapter 2

Cherry POV

"Cherry! You've finally come to your senses! My God, I knew you wouldn't let your talent be buried! In half a month I'll send a private jet to pick you up. Use these two weeks to settle everything in America!"

Hearing the French on the other end of the line, excited to the point of breaking, I calmly responded "okay" and hung up.

When I returned to the luxury villa Ethan called our "love nest," it was already late at night.

As soon as I pushed open the door, warm air hit my face.

Ethan, wearing gray loungewear, was coming out of the kitchen carrying a steaming cup of mulled wine. Seeing me covered in snow and looking disheveled, his eyes immediately creased with concern.

"Where were you? How did you get like this, not even using an umbrella?"

He walked over quickly, habitually trying to pull me into his embrace.

I instinctively turned my head away, avoiding his touch.

Ethan's hand froze mid-air. A flash of displeasure crossed his eyes, but it was quickly covered by gentleness. He sighed and forcibly grabbed my cold hand, rubbing it between his palms.

"Cherry, sulking at me again? The gallery was too busy today. I didn't have time to pick you up. That's my fault. Drink the mulled wine first, don't catch a cold. You still need to deliver the last three paintings next week."

Listen to that. Such a perfect excuse.

Caring about me was fake. Caring about those last three paintings was real.

I lowered my eyes, looking at his refined, scholarly face, and suddenly felt my stomach churning with nausea.

"Ethan." I suddenly spoke, my voice terribly hoarse.

"Mm?" He looked down, blowing on the mulled wine, responding carelessly.

"If one day I couldn't paint anymore, would you still treat me like you do now?"

Ethan's motion of blowing on the wine abruptly stopped.

He looked up, studying me deeply, then laughed and reached out to ruffle my damp hair. "What nonsense. Even if you became completely useless, I'd still take care of you for life. Cherry, drink up."

If this were before, hearing those words would have made my eyes redden with emotion.

But now, I only felt my hair stand on end.

His promise to take care of me for life meant keeping me chained in a basement like a pet, draining every last drop of blood from me.

I didn't take the wine. I walked past him and headed upstairs. "I'm tired. I want to sleep."

I didn't look back, but I could imagine the gentleness instantly draining from his face, his expression turning sinister and cold.

Over the next few days, I behaved unusually quietly.

I no longer clung to Ethan acting cute like before, nor did I pull him out to look at stars in the middle of the night. I locked myself in the studio every day, painting frantically.

Ethan seemed very satisfied with my obedience.

He probably thought his "domestication" had finally reached its most perfect stage.

At noon that day, Ethan came into the studio carrying cut fruit.

"Cherry, take a break." He wrapped his arms around my waist from behind, his chin resting in the crook of my neck, but his eyes greedily fixed on the nearly completed "Sunflowers" on the canvas.

The brushwork, color, and light were virtually identical to Vivian's work from her peak years, even more stunning.

"This painting is beautiful." He praised it sincerely.

My hand holding the brush tightened slightly, my knuckles turning white. I turned my head, looking at his face so close to mine, and suddenly smiled.

"Is it? Whose name are you planning to sign on this painting?"

The smile on Ethan's face instantly froze.

A flash of panic crossed his eyes, but he quickly regained his composure, even adding a touch of indulgent reproach. "What are you overthinking now? Your painting will naturally have your name on it. Next month's exhibition, I'll let the entire New York art world know how excellent my girlfriend is."

Watching his masterful performance, the last trace of hope in my heart completely died.

I calmly pushed him away and picked up the palette nearby. "I'm thirsty. I want the coffee you make."

"Okay, I'll go brew it for you." Ethan kissed my forehead and headed downstairs.

After confirming he'd left, I immediately locked the studio door and opened the laptop Ethan had left on the desk.

I used to run the streets. My hacking skills weren't top-tier, but cracking Ethan's password was more than easy enough.

Three minutes later, a document hidden deep in the files appeared on the screen.

"Vivian's Comeback Solo Exhibition Planning Document."

The catalog of thirty exhibited works was exactly all the heart and soul I'd poured out over the past six months!

And the exhibition date was in ten days.