“Claire, the exhibition is about to open. We’ve invited many international partners this time — we can’t afford any mistakes. I worked so hard to get here from being a nobody. This international show is my first step onto the global stage!”
“You’ll be happy for me, right?”
I lowered my head, sarcasm flashing in my eyes.
Ethan had built his reputation with my resources, gaining fame domestically.
But without breaking into the international market, he would eventually fade away.
Three years ago, when my mother fell ill, she needed a bone marrow match to survive.
The transplant was successful, but she still passed away six months later.
“I poured the entire studio’s resources into supporting you. You even saved my mom’s life. How could I not be happy for you? Ethan, isn’t this what you’ve been waiting for? You’ve worked for years for this day. Why would you even ask me that?”
Hearing my words, Ethan finally relaxed and tried to pull me into his arms.
“It’s just that facing the international market for the first time makes me nervous. You just had a miscarriage and still helped me check the venue — you must be exhausted.”
“When this exhibition is over, I’ll take you to Alaska to see the Northern Lights, just the two of us.”
I gave a soft “mm” and pulled away from his arms.
He looked startled, but I waved him off.
“Go handle your business first.”
Inside, I laughed bitterly.
He was shameless beyond belief.
Then Ethan gestured toward the door, and a middle-aged woman came in.
“Your eyesight isn’t good right now, so I arranged for a caregiver, Mrs. Thompson, to take care of you. Call her if you need anything.”
I looked up and saw a broad-shouldered woman. I didn’t think too much of it.
Ethan had always been meticulous.
But deep down, I knew — the caregiver was here to monitor me, not to take care of me.
As Ethan left, I heard his low voice clearly.
“If she does anything unusual, call me immediately. Grant all her requests except discharge.”
“Oh, and slip her the sleeping pills later. Once she’s out cold, take that container away.”
Container? Mom?
He wasn’t supposed to have a mom — he told me he was an orphan.
A chill ran down my back.
My fists clenched tight.
I needed to run.
Mrs. Thompson entered again, bringing me a bowl of soup and a small capful of medicine.
“The doctor prescribed this for you. Take it.”
She stared at me until I swallowed the pills.