I Painted our Marriage, Cheating was His Masterpiece

“Winslow! Stop it! That’s enough!”

I rushed over like a madwoman, but he shoved me away. I stumbled, almost falling.

“I’m begging you!!” I cried, grabbing his hand desperately. “She’s your daughter!”

“My daughter?” He sneered, teeth clenched. “She’s a living corpse now. Tell me, what part of her looks like my daughter now?”

The words froze me. My whole body went cold.

Elora’s breathing grew more and more rapid. I couldn’t care about anything else anymore; I dropped to my knees with a thud.

Shards of glass pierced my skin. Blood pooled beneath me, trickling down my legs, but I felt nothing.

I crawled toward him, clutching at his pant leg, voice breaking.

“I’m begging you, spare her… I’ll apologize. I’ll take it all back. I was wrong…” I begged. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry… please, spare my daughter go…”

My voice broke apart as I sobbed until I could barely breathe.

Erin stood beside Winslow, her hand resting delicately on his arm. Her eyes gleamed with satisfaction before she lowered them, schooling her face into sympathy.

“Merry, you don’t have to do this. I don’t blame you,” she murmured.

I looked up at her through tears that blurred the edges of her face.

Time stretched unbearably. Then, Winslow finally muttered two words. “That’s enough.”

Hearing that, the doctors rushed forward, reconnecting the oxygen mask.

The shrill alarm from the monitor began to slow, then faded into steady beeps again.

I clung to the side of the bed, my fingers bloodless and stiff, while the pool beneath me spread wider on the floor.

Erin seemed satisfied. She sighed, pretending to be weak, and leaned on her son for support. “Winslow, I’m not feeling well. Let’s go.”

He nodded. “Alright.”

When he turned toward me, irritation flashed in his eyes. “Doctor, take care of her leg.”

“I’m not leaving,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “I’m staying with Elora.”

He frowned, his tone carrying something that almost sounded like concern. “Merry, look at yourself—you can barely stand. You need help.”

I lifted my head, my throat hoarse as I insisted, “I said I’m not leaving.”

For a moment, he went quiet. Then, his jaw tightened again, and the next second, warmth vanished from his face.

“Fine. Suit yourself.”

He turned and walked out, his footsteps echoing down the hall until there was nothing left but the steady beeping of the monitor.

After that night, Winslow didn’t come back.

I stayed by Elora’s side, refusing to leave even for a moment.

Day and night blurred together. Sometimes, when the room was silent and still, her fingers would twitch, just barely—and that tiny movement was the only thing keeping me breathing.

I prayed she would wake up. And yet, deep down, I was terrified. I was terrified that if she opened her eyes, she would see the man her father had become and break all over again.

Every day, I could hear the nurses whispering just outside the door.

“I heard Mr. Weinstein took Miss Erin to Baltimore for her art exhibit.”

“Yeah, I saw it on the news. He even threw a celebration party for her with flowers covering an entire wall.”

“That artist is really lucky. She lost his baby, but somehow she’s even more loved now.”

Their voices were full of envy.

I sat by the bed and listened quietly, my heart no longer stirring.

I remembered how Winslow once waited an hour early for every date, holding a bouquet of daisies—my favorite flowers.

He once said something that sounded so romantic to a painter.

“Oh, Merry, the worlds you paint are so pure. If I could, I’d live inside them with you forever.”

Now, I knew those words were nothing more than fabricated sweet talk.

I no longer held any expectations for him.

On the seventh night, my phone rang. It was my lawyer.

“Miss Merry, the divorce is finalized. Sir Leroy’s private jet is waiting for you on the rooftop.”

I turned to my daughter. She lay peacefully, lashes trembling faintly, as if still lost in a beautiful dream.

I leaned down and pressed my lips to her forehead.

“Elora,” I whispered, “Mom’s taking you home.”

The midnight wind howled across the rooftop, cold enough to pierce bone.

The private jet sat beneath the floodlights, its cabin door slowly opening.

I looked back once at the hospital building.

That place had been my prison. Finally, now, it was over.

Taking my phone from my pocket, I removed the SIM card.

Between my fingers, it felt lighter than air. I let it go, and the wind carried it into the dark, spinning until it vanished.

From this night forward, Winslow and I would have nothing left between us.

But I swore that one day, he and Erin would pay for what they had done!