The Scapegoat Wife's Ultimate Comeback

e, crossed his features. Before he could respond, the emergency lights, which had been flickering

ing and jostling. I was caught in the crush, shoved violently from behind. A sh

with lightning speed, wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close, shielding her with his body from the j

h my ankle. My head hit something hard, and the world spun. Before I could fully regain my

u've all been waiting for! The unveiling of t

My stomach clenched. It was Alina' s music box. The one she' d made when she was twelve, hand-painted with constellations and tiny, secret messages in a

the announcer continued, his voice swelling with drama

thereal, deeply symbolic works had taken the art world by storm. Alina,

is voice, "please welcome the woman of the hour, t

on her face, accepting the thunderous applause as if it were her due. Sh

identity; it was a desecration. Hillery, the untalented, man

searing pain in my ankle, the throbbing in my head. "That's a lie

fore I could take another step, a sharp, sudden blow slammed into the back of my head. The world expl

a mixture of expensive cologne and something else, something uniquely his, enveloped me.

l ache now, my ankle still protesting. Conor sat at a desk across the room, his back to me, talking quietly on the phone

smissive. He was already spinning the narrative

nger giving me strength. "Let me go," I rasp

lked over to me, pushing me gently back down when I tried to rise again. "

's a liar! A thief! She's claiming Alina's work, Conor! Don't you understand? That music box... it was Al

ving patience. His eyes held no surprise, no

h conviction. "I'm going to tell the world what she's done! W

st a profound, unsettling stillness. And in that stillness, I saw it

the childhood trauma that fueled her art, our shared claustrophobia, her early death, the hidden vault of her masterpieces. I had trusted him with the most sacred parts of my past, with the memory of my brilliant, lost sis

s of Alina's legacy. But he hadn't. He had been gathering information. Intel. Everything I had shared, every vulnerable detail, he had use

glass. "You knew all along. You gave her everything, didn't you? My sister's l

re not thinking straight. You're overwrought. We can discuss this when you're calmer. I'll get you

to do that! You don't get to control my mind! Tell me, Conor! Tell me

"Hillery is my family. She needs my prot

rom what? From her own lies? What about me, Conor? What about

Your imagination is running wild." He leaned in, his voice dropping to a low, intimate tone. "I

hing akin to fear, crossed his eyes. He quickly masked it, but the damage was