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The Art He Couldn't Keep Novel Cover

The Art He Couldn't Keep

After a decade together, Caspin Thorne betrays his fiancée in the very Manhattan penthouse she designed. On the eve of their housewarming, he reveals he married his twenty-year-old intern that morning. While shamelessly claiming he still loves her most, he suggests she hire an escort to save face at their upcoming party. Devastated but resolute, she conceals her secret pregnancy ultrasound. Refusing to suffer his cruelty, she decides it is time to turn her back on the man who threw their future away.
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Chapter 3

"Caspin, Clementine was with you for ten years. You really went and married that little intern?"

"The girl needed the commitment. It's just a piece of paper, what does it matter?"

"Aren't you afraid you'll regret it if Clementine takes off?"

My heart seized, but then I heard his nonchalant laugh.

"Clementine's world revolves around me. She's a work of art I molded myself. The novelty has just worn off for a bit."

"I know her too well. Once I'm tired of playing around, she'll still be standing right there, waiting obediently for me."

I couldn't hear the rest.

I stumbled to the sink, desperately splashing cold water on my face. Finally, I bit down hard on the soft flesh of my hand, watching as water and tears of humiliation dripped into the basin, refusing to let a single sob escape.

Caspin Thorne, this time, you bet wrong.

This work of art you've grown tired of won't be waiting for you.

As I turned to leave the restroom, a sharp slap cracked across my face.

I clutched my stinging cheek, turning my head in disbelief.

Ivy rotated her wrist, the gentle expression on her face peeling away like a mask. "You heard all that? Caspin and I are married. Have you no shame, still clinging to him like this?"

"If you're so desperate for a man, go find one on the streets of Brooklyn."

"A cheap piece of trash like you belongs on the street with the rest of the lowlifes."

My ears rang, my vision filled with the sharp cruelty of her face, the mocking curl of her lips.

A laugh of pure fury bubbled up, but Ivy gave me no chance to retaliate. She let out a sudden, sharp scream, mussed her own hair, and hurled herself backward.

"Clementine!"

An icy voice exploded from behind me.

Caspin rushed over and helped Ivy to her feet, pulling her into his arms.

She was sobbing, barely able to stand, tears streaming down her face. "Caspin, I'm the evil woman who destroyed your relationship. It's all my fault. I shouldn't have appeared. I'm a vicious bitch."

As she spoke, she slapped her own face twice, hard.

Caspin grabbed her hand, his eyes trembling.

"Who said those things to you?"

Ivy bit her lip, her hands twisting the fabric of her dress. "Please, don't ask."

But as her gaze swept over me, she flinched in feigned terror.

"Someone like me can't afford to cross a socialite like you. Caspin, I'm not good enough for you. Please, just let me go. I don't want to end up as a victim of some senseless revenge."

He frowned, his gaze landing on me, full of malice.

"Explain."

I lowered my hand, revealing my red, swollen cheek.

"You should ask her what she said."

"Miss Clementine!" Ivy shrieked, her voice high and shrill. "I did slap you, but only because you threatened my sick mother! She needs money for treatment. If you're still not satisfied, you can hit me back. I'm begging you, just don't hurt her!"

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