He Paid Five Million to Cut Ties, Then Came Crawling Back Chapter 03

He Paid Five Million to Cut Ties, Then Came Crawling Back Chapter 03

Bennett didn’t come back after that.

Life settled into a hollow routine. I opened the shop every morning, helped customers, and locked up at night.

Only the burn on my hand wouldn’t let me pretend nothing had changed.

An envelope arrived at the shop one afternoon.

Inside was an invitation to an art exhibition.

A solo show. Serena’s name on the front.

Fairhaven Art Center. The best gallery in the city.

Bennett had sent it.

My chest tightened so hard I couldn’t breathe.

Serena studied art. Bennett had said her hands made him feel alive again.

What was this? A victory lap? Look what I found. Someone better. Someone whole.

I crumpled the invitation and tossed it in the trash.

But when night came, I went anyway. I couldn’t stop myself.

I’d left the invitation in the trash. Security wouldn’t let me in without it.

So I stood outside the glass and watched.

Serena was inside, spotlit in a gown that fit like it had been painted on, glowing under the attention.

Bennett stood next to her. Immaculate suit. Shoulders squared.

He was looking at her the way he’d never once looked at me.

I felt like a joke. The kind of woman who shows up where she isn’t wanted just to watch someone else live the life she lost.

I was about to leave.

Then I saw the painting. The centerpiece. The biggest one in the room.

It was called Shattered.

A girl, curled in on herself in a dark corner. Shards of broken stars scattered all around her.

That composition. Those brushstrokes. Those colors…

The floor dropped out from under me.

It was mine. The last thing I’d ever painted. Eight years ago.

I’d started it right after my hand was crushed, half out of my mind with pain and grief.

My hand shook too badly to paint. I completed the line work and never picked up a brush again.

That sketch had been locked in my studio ever since.

Only one other person knew the code.

Bennett.

He had stolen my painting.

He’d taken the worst moment of my life and handed it to her like a gift.

My vision blurred. Everything tilted.

I shoved past the distracted security guard at the entrance before he could stop me.

“Bennett!”

My voice ripped through the gallery.

Every head turned.

Bennett’s face went dark the second he saw me.

He was in front of me in three steps. “What the hell are you doing here?”

His voice dropped, but the disgust in it didn’t.

I jabbed a trembling finger at the painting. “Why is that here?”

He didn’t even flinch. Barely looked at it.

“That’s Serena’s piece.”

The laugh that came out of me didn’t sound human. “You’re going to stand here and tell me you’ve never seen that sketch before?”

A flicker of guilt crossed his features, gone in an instant.

I didn’t care who heard me. “You know exactly what you did, Bennett.”

“Maren.” He grabbed my arm, fingers digging in. “Not here. You need to stop.”

“I’m being unreasonable?”

The tears broke loose and I didn’t care. “You took my painting. You took my dream. You gave them both to her, and I’m the unreasonable one?”

A crowd was forming around us.

Serena appeared at his side, clinging to his arm, eyes wide and wounded—the picture of someone who’d done nothing wrong.

“Maren, I think there’s been a misunderstanding. This piece is mine. It’s completely original. Bennett just… gave me a little inspiration.”

“Inspiration?” I almost choked on the word. “You traced my line sketch and painted over it. That’s what you’re calling inspiration?”

“I don’t know anything about a sketch…” Serena’s lip trembled, tears spilling over. “Bennett, I’m scared…”

He pulled her behind him. The way he looked at me. Like I was someone he didn’t recognize. Someone dangerous.

“That’s enough. One more word, Maren, and I’m calling security.”

Security. Always security.

In his world, I was always the problem that needed to be removed.

“Fine.” I swiped the tears from my face with the back of my hand.

I held his eyes for one long second. Then I turned and walked out on legs that barely held me.

The whispers started before I’d made it ten feet.

“Who is that woman? She’s out of her mind.”

“Apparently she’s Ashford’s ex. She’s got a crippled hand, and clearly she’s lost her mind, too”.

“Can you blame him for moving on? Who could deal with that?”

Every word landed. I heard all of it.

That was all I was to them. The crazy ex with the ruined hand.

And Bennett was the saint who’d finally escaped.

I made it back to the flower shop and locked myself in the storage room.

My old art supplies were stacked against every wall, all of them buried under dust.

I dug through the bottom box until I found an old sketchbook.

Everything I’d ever been was in those pages.

Portraits of Bennett. Places we’d gone together. Sketches of a future I’d actually believed in.

The last page held the original concept sketch for Shattered.

Just a few raw lines on paper. But everything I’d felt that day was in them.

Now someone else was standing on top of it, taking a bow.

I pressed the sketchbook against my chest and curled up in the corner, just like the girl in the painting.

Only this time, nobody was coming.