I Painted our Marriage, Cheating was His Masterpiece

In an instant, I felt the blood in my veins run cold.

Before I even realized it, I was on my feet, kicking the table. It crashed to the floor with a startling thud, sending the glass of water shattering across the stage.

Gasps rippled through the crowd, flashes bursting from every direction.

I grabbed the paper cutter from the table and pressed it to my neck, drawing every pair of eyes toward me.

“My daughter isn’t dead!” My voice was hoarse, trembling between fury and grief. “You can insult me all you want, but you don’t get to slander my child!”

The room fell silent.

“All of those paintings are mine!” I cried, my voice breaking apart. “Erin stole my work! I am the real artist of these paintings, and my daughter jumped because her son and his friends bullied her until she couldn’t take it anymore!”

Flashes went off again, blinding and relentless.

Some people took pictures, others laughed, and others shouted.

Erin clutched her chest and rushed toward me.

“Merry, calm down!” she cried, voice trembling as she ran onto the stage. She pressed a hand over my mouth, her other hand tangling painfully in my hair. “How could you say that? We were best friends, weren’t we? How could you slander me like this?”

I tried to push her away, but she pinned me down, her fingers digging into the fresh wound on my shoulder.

“You bitch!” she hissed under her breath.

Pain seared through me. I shoved back, but she suddenly lunged forward, and my footing slipped. The blade clattered to the floor.

Erin stumbled backward, pretending to reach for me, then lost her balance.

“Ahhh!”

Her scream cut through the noise as she fell down the stairs, her skirt billowing before she hit the ground below.

The reporters were alarmed.

“Sh-She’s bleeding!”

“Oh my god! She’s pregnant?!”

Chaos tore through the room.

Someone bumped into me hard, and pain shot through my shoulder. I just stood frozen, staring at the pool of red spreading across the floor.

Winslow pushed through the crowd and dropped to his knees beside Erin, frantically lifting her.

“Erin, don’t be afraid. I’m here,” he said, his voice trembling, his eyes worried.

Blood was all over his hands. He didn’t even glance in my direction.

“Winslow…” she sobbed weakly, barely conscious. “The baby… Our baby’s gone…”

“The baby’s okay. The baby’s okay. We’ll get you to the hospital. Don’t be scared,” he replied, trying to calm her.

He lifted her into his arms, his eyes full of pain.

And I just stood there, staring at the bloodstains on the floor, my whole body cold.

The press surrounded me, mocking and condemning me like a relentless tide.

“This woman lost her mind!”

“She wanted Miss Erin to miscarry!”

“What a monster!”

I reached out, trying to explain, but before I could, Winslow finally looked at me.

That single glance froze me in place. It was sharper than any accusations.

“Merry,” he said in a low voice in between gritted teeth, “you’ve really disappointed me this time.”

I opened my mouth to defend myself, but he stepped forward and shoved me hard aside.

“Lock her in the basement,” he ordered his assistant coldly. “Let her think about what she’s done!”

I hit the floor hard, the edge of the stair striking my arm. Pain exploded as the wound split open, blood tracing a slow path down my skin.

Winslow paused for a moment, as if wanting to say something, but then he swallowed it back.

Turning away, he carried Erin out, stumbling out of the crowd, disappearing in the blinding flashes.

I lay there, listening to the noise and chaos fading into the distance, until security dragged me away.

They took me back to the old villa.

The basement was dim, the single lightbulb above me flickering weakly.

They threw me inside and slammed the door shut with a loud bang.

I curled up on the cold floor, shaking uncontrollably with every breath.

It was deep into the night when I finally heard Winslow’s low and restrained voice outside the door.

“Merry, you were too impulsive! Erin lost the baby because of you! Stay here and think about what you’ve done!”

A bitter laugh broke from my throat, the sound scraping raw. I was laughing until tears blurred my eyes.

“Her miscarriage has nothing to do with me.”

He fell silent until his tone broke with anger and loss of control.

“Whether it has or has not, she’s innocent. You lost your shit in front of the press and brought scandal to the company! Merry… I really can’t protect you anymore.”

I leaned back against the cold wall, my eyes emptying of warmth as I listened to his footsteps retreating and fading down the hall.

I lifted my head, looking up at the flickering bulb overhead.

It blinked again and again, each flash reflecting the blood that covered my hands.