The Mute Muse's Revenge

“For nine years, I lived as a ghost, tethered to Ethan Blackwood. The art world knew me as "A.N.", the mute artist madly in love with the city's most renowned and arrogant art critic, a story they all enjoyed. They didn't know the truth: nine years ago, my younger sister Lily was dying, and desperation led me to the mysterious Muse System. The price for her life? My voice and identity, transforming me into Ethan' s dedicated muse, his silent shadow. I endured his daily humiliation, his condescending words, and his blatant preference for Vivienne, his "white moonlight," while I mimicked her style, sinking into debt. Tonight was our seventh anniversary, also my 28th birthday, but he never came home, the special meal growing cold as the clock ticked past midnight. He finally stumbled in at 2 AM, reeking of alcohol, saw my absence, and woke me with a snarled command: "Draw my bath." My bare feet slipped on a stray drop of water, sending a searing pain through my leg as I fell hard on the marble floor, but he just watched with pure indifference. Then his phone chimed, his voice instantly softening, humming a happy tune as he spoke to Vivienne, admiring a sculpture he' d bought her-a fortune spent while I bled myself dry for his approval. That night, my own sister, Lily, called, shrill with accusation: "Vivienne is so upset! Ethan belongs with her! You need to divorce him and disappear!" Days later, my grandmother assaulted me at a family dinner, shoving me until my head met a sharp table corner, a flash of white pain and then darkness. I awoke in a hospital, my mother dismissing my concussion as "drama," and my grandmother asking the doctor, with strange hope, "Is she going to die?" Vivienne visited, placing lilies to trigger my allergy, then feigning a cut to get Ethan' s attention, successfully turning his rage on me. He dragged me from the bed, forcing me to my knees before her, demanding an apology I couldn' t give, leaving me there, alone and humiliated. The next blow came from Vivienne again, a "calculated" trip that sent scalding coffee all over me, leaving me crumpled on the floor with second-degree burns while Ethan checked on her, blaming me for the mess. No one helped me, not him, not the servants, as my heart, a dead, calm sea, felt nothing but resignation. The Muse System finally alerted me to the severe toll the mission had taken: a terminal diagnosis with only a month to live. Ethan, completely oblivious, brought Vivienne to an obstetrics clinic, where she brandished a sonogram: "It' s yours, Ethan. We're going to be a family." I learned then everything I had sacrificed for was a lie, and there was no longer any turning back. My one goal remained: to reclaim my identity before the end. I called Dr. Alex Carter: "I want my old face back... I want to die as myself."”