Love's Obsession, Her Freedom

Vance Gallery dripped light o

moved through the space, their voices a low, expensive

vas, a glass of champagne in my hand

o the little gold-embossed placard ne

n't my real

itle was

ed thing that Ethan Vance was generous enough to patronize. I was pa

rifted closer, his eyes lingering on m

oice slick with false famili

ed, my smile feeling like a

mints. "I'm sure you're just as bold in person.

ct, empty smile I had

cycle of humiliation ser

have been the host, not the exhibit. But that was before Ethan. Before he swoope

hen offered to sell me back the pi

ance. He was charming, intense, a rising star in the art world. I was

the casual cruelty disguised as passion. I saw how

roke the engagement and walked awa

s na

her, weak and terrified of losing his legacy, folded in a matter of weeks. Ethan bought a c

ed my

e disease that required treatments with price tags that looked like phone nu

lifeline. He had the money, the connections to the best

ade me b

s, attend his parties, and play the part of the grateful, reclaimed stray. In r

He wanted to own the one thing

t. My

ingers against it, trying to will it away. The smell of perfume and champagne was making me si

rper tongue slinked over to me. Her name was

ith open disdain. "Still playing the part of the t

re still playing the part of the untalente

. You seem to think you're still somebody. You

hampagne, clenched into a fist at

directly in the eye. "You're

oser, invading h

spered, my voice low and cold, "is that he's obsessed

. She raised her hand, abou

s fa

n glass and poured the entire contents of the bubbly, ex

ng the front of her designer dress. Gasps rip

ere, sputter

lass neatly on a pa

, my face a blank ca

up," I said, my voice clear

in a puddle of her own humiliation. It was