His Art, Her Agony

with distant relatives. Ethan never called. He never reached out. It was as

ings at her nursing home room when Ava appeared in the doorway. She was h

o, so sorry for your loss. Ethan

he flowers. "Devastated? T

through his art. You know that. The exhibition... it was h

rangers to gawk at and called it art. How dare you come h

proprietary hand on her shoulder. "Ava was just t

ur new muse, unburdened by the wreckage you leave behind. He did the same thing to

tionship was a collaboration. 'Raw Truths' is a testament to the depth of

aking. He had no remorse, no guilt. Only

major donation would be made in my name to a grief counseling center. It was a public relations move, a transpa

g elite of the art world. Ethan and Ava stood at the center of it all, holding court. He took the stag

culpture. It was an abstract, mangled form of steel and broken glass. But what made the crowd gasp was the object

d, loud enough for those nearby to hear. "Chloe... did you do this? Did you give him the locket?" She turned to

world of performative shock and artistic scandal, it was just plau

oked at me, his eyes filled with a cold, performative fury. "How could

ng into my flesh like talons. "You're a monster," he spat, his face inches from mine. The crowd gasped. The flash of cameras started to go off.