The CEO Hid His Mistress Inside A Million Dollar Painting Chapter 02

The CEO Hid His Mistress Inside A Million Dollar Painting Chapter 02

The next day, I brought back a box of utility knives and several cans of industrial paint.

Right in front of the scrolling comments, I walked over to the painting titled Summer Forest and drove the blade down hard.

Rip!

[Perla’s gone crazy! Someone tell Hyatt to stop screwing around inside the painting, the bed was about to fall apart!]

[That forest painting was their secret hideout! Just on that hammock in the tree alone, they’ve gone at it at least ten times.]

[Oh no! That equestrian painting is ruined, too! Vicky just said yesterday that bouncing on the horse’s back was the most exciting!]

Shredded canvas fell to the floor.

I was about to destroy the third painting when the door slammed open.

“Perla, what the hell are you doing?”

Hyatt strode out, his suit crisp and neat, with bloodshot eyes behind his gold-rimmed glasses.

It was as if he hadn’t just been fooling around inside a painting moments ago.

“Perla, these are Mr. Thorne’s most cherished things. How could you ruin them like this?” A sweet, coquettish voice followed right after.

Vicky peeked out from behind Hyatt.

She was wearing the limited-edition red dress I’d gotten just last week.

With her smaller frame, the hem dragged on the floor, looking ridiculously tacky.

She wore my favorite rose perfume.

The custom scent I’d had made specially in Grasse.

Hyatt glanced at the mess around him, smoothly pulled a black card from his wallet, and flicked it onto the coffee table with a crisp snap.

“Enough. Take the card and buy whatever you want, just leave here right now and stay away from my paintings.”

Same old trick.

For three years of marriage, every time I was even a little upset, this was always his move.

Once, I’d thought it was his way of caring.

Now I saw it clearly, it was just his fastest way to get rid of trouble.

I kicked aside a piece of canvas in my way and spoke coldly, “I had an expert look. The most expensive of this trash isn’t worth more than three thousand dollars. Why are you upset about ruining a bunch of fakes?”

Hyatt fell silent, lost for words.

After a moment, he forced out a stiff reply. “I collect them as a hobby. What do you know about that kind of sentiment?”

“Sentiment?” I laughed, turning to look at Vicky. “So having your assistant show up at my house first thing in the morning wearing my dress and my perfume is part of your sentiment too?”

Vicky’s small frame trembled, her eyes welling up instantly.

Hyatt almost instinctively stepped in front of her. “Stop being so aggressive. The pipes burst at Vicky’s rental, and she had nowhere to go. I told her she could stay here temporarily.”

“I gave her the clothes. It’s not like yours were doing anything but gathering dust. So what if she wears a couple of pieces?” His voice hardened. “Perla, you’ve never been this petty before.”

I laughed in anger. “How generous of you, Mr. Thorne, using my things to win favor.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Thorne… I know I’m not welcome here.” Vicky tugged at the hem of Hyatt’s jacket, tears falling one after another. “If me staying here upsets you, Perla, I’ll leave right away… I’d rather sleep on the street than cause trouble between you two.”

“Stay where you are!” Hyatt grabbed her wrist roughly, glaring back at me with clear impatience and disgust. “Have you made enough of a scene? Vicky’s going through a rough patch. Is letting her stay for two or three days going to bankrupt you?”

“And you’re no longer the company’s CEO. The decisions I make are none of your business.”

[Finally! Hyatt’s standing up for himself. Someone needs to put that frumpy wife in her place!]

[Exactly! Vicky is so much sweeter. Did you hear her moaning in that equestrian painting earlier? She nearly made the ML lose his mind. No way Perla could ever be that wild.]

[Tonight they’re planning to go inside that wedding portrait. You know, the six-feet-tall one with the white sand dress train. Gonna go at it right on the fabric. Now that’s what I call creative.]

I stared at the huge sketch of our wedding photo, my heart twisting as if cut by a knife over and over.

I’d drawn every line of that wedding photo myself.

Hyatt had once said he’d treasure it like his life, wanting to see our happiness every time he opened his eyes.

“Fine. She can stay if she wants.”

I wanted to see just how shameless Hyatt could get.