Chapter 3

Cherry POV

The black text on white background on the screen burned my eyes.

Thirty paintings. Each one I'd stayed up countless nights to complete, painstakingly crafted stroke by stroke under Ethan's "gentle encouragement."

Now, they all bore Vivian's name.

I laughed coldly, destructive madness churning in my eyes. I didn't make a scene. I silently cleared my browsing history and put the computer back in its place.

Footsteps sounded outside the door. Ethan came in carrying coffee.

"Cherry, coffee's ready."

I turned around, took the coffee and sipped it, then suddenly my hand shook and the scalding coffee spilled directly onto the nearly finished "Sunflowers"!

The dark brown liquid instantly spread, ruining the entire painting's color structure.

"What are you doing?!"

Ethan's voice shot up sharply. His gentle mask instantly shattered, his eyes erupting with barely concealed fury and heartbreak. He shoved me aside and lunged at the canvas, trying to wipe away the stains with his sleeve, but the more he wiped, the worse it got.

The force of his push made me stumble backward. My waist slammed hard against the easel, pain making me gasp.

But I laughed.

"My hand slipped." I looked at Ethan's frantic back, my tone light as air. "It's just a painting. Why are you so worked up? Worst case, I'll just repaint it."

Ethan's whole body went rigid.

He seemed to realize he'd lost his composure. He took a deep breath, forcibly suppressing the violence in his eyes. When he turned around, he'd become that gentle, considerate perfect boyfriend again.

"I'm sorry, Cherry. Did I hurt you?" He came over, rubbing my waist with apparent concern. "I just thought it was such a shame. You spent so long on this painting. I feel bad about all your hard work going to waste."

"Feel bad about my hard work, or about your cash cow being destroyed?" I looked at him with a half-smile.

Ethan's eyes darkened. He suddenly grabbed my chin, applying so much force he nearly crushed my bones.

"Cherry, what's gotten into you today? All these passive-aggressive remarks." He leaned in close, his tone carrying a dangerous warning. "I've been swamped lately preparing for your exhibition. Can you be a little more sensible and stop making trouble?"

"I'm making trouble?" I met his gaze fearlessly. "Ethan, do you dare look me in the eye and tell me this exhibition is really for me?"

The two of us stood in a standoff, the air thick with gunpowder.

Just then, Ethan's phone suddenly rang.

A special ringtone.

Ethan's expression changed. He immediately released me and walked onto the balcony with his phone.

Though separated by the glass door, I could still clearly see the careful, treasuring expression on his face. An expression of genuine emotion he'd never shown me.

"Vivian, you've arrived? Good, wait for me at the VIP passage. I'll be right there."

Hanging up, Ethan rushed back in, putting on his coat as he spoke. "There's an emergency at the gallery. I need to handle it. Stay home and paint obediently. That 'Sunflowers' must be redone within three days, understand?"

Without giving me a chance to respond, he slammed the door and left.

I walked to the floor-to-ceiling window and watched the black SUV shoot out of the villa like an arrow released from its bow.

I pulled out my phone and called a rideshare.

"Driver, to the airport."