Poisoned, Shot, Reborn: Now Watch Me

of my husband's tech empire, forced to mana

her's last legacy-a priceless block of marble-

ad me shot, poisoned, and l

g to murder Isla, turning

he dragged me to a cliff's edge, re

t!" she screame

ut, his eyes on Is

my father's sculpture into the sea. And as the las

I ju

pte

Thom

the most famous jok

e of tech mogul Elliott McCullough. The archi

about the "M

ting carousel of young, beautiful women-artists, poets, musicians-w

or his infidelities, and he believed his bi

olios clutched in their eager hands,

wit

ekeeper. I vetted them, I reviewed their work, and I

ook," I' d explain, my voice a flat, polished monotone. "In return, Elliott will be your patron. He wi

ject of pitying articles. The Woman Who Endur

a toxic sludge that coated the inside of my heart. I stayed because leaving meant letting him win, meant lett

e has a bre

en

hen he brought I

with her torn jeans and paint-splattered hands. She spoke of art as a rebellion, of money as a corrupt

became o

at redemption from the very system o

e dismantle

, their contracts paid o

ilosophies. "Isla says consumerism is the death o

n who owned thr

what funded his quest for "authenticity." He forgot the nights I spent coding w

me on the anniversary

ock of pure Carrara marble. It was priceless, not for its market value, but for what it represented-hi

threw a lavish party for Isla, celebrating

ned, the mar

that pedestal was a sculpture-a grotes

ast piece of my father

ief, my legacy, and carved it

et, simmering resentment ig

dmiring their new acquisition. I didn't scream.

he polished mahogany desk in fr

I said, my voice as cold and ha

n his eyes, which quickly turned to sh

gu

original partnership agreement under the infidelity clause," I co

a bead of sweat was already

but at the terrified, wide-e

she