The Artist Who Cheated Death

h the quiet of her new-found studio space. Ava knew who it was be

she said, he

ttle... strange this morning," her mother, Sarah, began, her voice drip

just told Mark I

t? Mark is a very important man, he needs a wife who can support his ambitions, not one who is distracting herse

years. In her first life, these words had been chains, weighing

," Ava said, her grip tightening on the phone. "And

a wife who smells like turpentine? He married you because you were poised, elegant, a perfect hostess.

ved she was helping, guiding her daughter towards th

have a lot to do to

me! You listen to me, you a

ead against the cool glass of the garden doors, her breath fogging the pane. This was harder than she imagined. The old

omised, and barely looked at her during their silent dinner. The dining room, with its long, polished t

finally, placing his fork down with a sharp click. "I expect yo

ing his gaze directly. "Ar

ust... business. They're investors. They don'

ssion is a sign of in

tion. "Our life, our marriage, is a partnership. It's a brand. Everything

me," she said softly, mo

or this. Just be ready by seven on Saturday. And wear

dress. He didn't even remember that she had given that dress to charity a year ago in th

ir helped clear her head. She pulled out her phone and dialed a n

said, her voice t

rise. Is everything alright

onsense man who had arranged their marriage, hoping Ava's quiet grace would temper Mark's ruthless ambition. He was the only one in

and I had a disagre

"He's all work and no sense

rst time that day. "I told him I want

's about time! I've been telling you for years to take that talent of yours seriously.

appy about it. Neither is my mother. They

is a title. Being an artist is who you are. Don't you ev

ou," she

ng beautiful. And if that grandson of mine gives you an

shield against the negativity from Mark and her mother. Whe

maid was clearing away the dishes. She walked up the stairs, not to her

st

out her first life, about the years she had wasted trying to please people who were impossible to pleas

Regret for the paintings she never painted, t

was a fuel for the past. This time, s

rce, desperate love for the art

room with color and life. She would build her future here, on he

to find out how