“I gave up my architecture dream and my entire inheritance to help Garrison build his law firm, reducing myself to a glorified maid in his home for five years. But the night my mother lay dying in the hospital, Garrison didn't come. Instead, I saw him on the news, proposing to his mistress, Kayla, with a diamond ring bought with my savings. When I confronted them, Garrison didn't apologize. Instead, he forced me to sign my 15% stake in the company over to Kayla for zero dollars. He claimed she needed "security" because she was fragile. Even when I threw the toxicology report at him, proving Kayla had poisoned my mother with arsenic to get her out of the way, Garrison covered it up to save his precious merger. He looked me in the eye and told me to apologize to the woman who murdered my mother. That was the moment Janet Gardner died. I signed the papers, threw the divorce agreement in his face, and vanished into the night without a trace. Three years later, at a prestigious art gallery in Paris, a gaunt, broken man fell to his knees in front of the famous artist "Jane." Garrison wept, clutching the hem of my dress, begging for my forgiveness. I looked down at my ex-husband with a polite, empty smile. "I'm sorry, sir. Do I know you?"”