I Rented My Husband Out and Bought My Daughter A Heart Surgery Chapter 09

I Rented My Husband Out and Bought My Daughter A Heart Surgery Chapter 09

Some things really do come full circle.

I didn’t return the shares.

They belonged to Bria.

After her follow-up, we flew back to Northvale Ridge.

That was when I discovered her talent.

Painting-not just good, but extraordinary.

I found her a private instructor and kept every piece she created, storing them carefully as if each one mattered. Because they did.

I set up an online portfolio for her, scanning and uploading her work.

At first, it drew little attention, but slowly, the audience grew.

By the time she was thirteen, she had already gained recognition.

I organized her first gallery exhibition back home, and the turnout far exceeded my expectations.

After that, her confidence soared. Inspiration came easily, one idea after another.

Her work began selling online for serious prices.

She once asked if we should release her earlier pieces.

I refused, but I didn’t stop her from selling new ones.

At seventeen, she went viral again after another record-breaking sale.

That time, I brought her back and opened a gallery in her name, giving her a future to fall back on even if she ever chose to stop painting.

With her reputation growing, exhibitions became frequent.

One day, while helping a visitor locate a lost bag, she paused and pointed at the surveillance screen.

“Mom, this guy… he’s always here first and leaves last.”

“But he never asks for photos or autographs. What do you think he wants?”

…

“Could he be trying to steal something?”

I followed her gaze.

The image was blurry, but I recognized him instantly.

Even after all those years.

I smiled faintly. “Maybe just a very dedicated fan.

She grinned. “Or maybe it’s that mystery buyer-the one who always bids way above market

price.”

“I mean, I know I’m good, but even I know my early work wasn’t worth that much.”

“People even say I hired someone to inflate prices.”

She shrugged lightly. “If that buyer showed up, it would clear everything.”

A quiet unease settled in my chest.

“You’re not thinking of reaching out, are you?”

She shook her head. “If they wanted to contact me, they would have. Besides… art needs a little

mystery.”

Ten years passed.

She painted less and shifted into curation and collecting.

Then one day, she came to me holding her phone.

“Mom, this payment is strange. The amount isn’t even rounded.”

“And if the piece has value, I should be the one paying. My appearance fee isn’t this high.”

She hesitated, then laughed softly. “If I hadn’t been booked that day, I might’ve gone to check it

out.”

“Though… it could’ve been a scam.”

The unease in my chest deepened.

She refunded the money.

That afternoon, I received a call.

“Hello. Is this Ms. Halbrook?”

I stayed silent.

The voice continued, polite and measured. “I’m calling on behalf of Mr. Alistair Vance. He is in the

late stages of cancer and would like to see you and your daughter.”

I went alone.

At the door, the assistant stepped aside.

Inside, the man on the bed was barely recognizable-thin, frail, a shadow of who he once was.

But the moment he saw me, his eyes lit up.

He tried to look past me, searching.

I closed the door behind me.

“She returned the money. She’s not coming.”

The light in his eyes faded.

“Maren… I’m sorry.”

I didn’t respond.

Instead, I looked around the room.

Every wall was covered with Bria’s paintings-years of them, carefully framed.

He had been the buyer all along.

Across from his bed hung one of her earliest works.

Home.

Just two figures-her and me.

And on the left side, an empty space.

Where he used to belong.

I placed a recent photo of Bria by his bedside and left without another word.

That night, he died.

They said he was smiling, her photo pressed against his chest.

Everything he left behind was donated to families with children suffering from heart disease.

I closed the news and listened as Bria told me about her day.

The past-love, hate, all of it-had long since faded into time.