After we got together, I split my time between tracking the common threads linking those socialites' deaths and cramming everything I could about elite society.
All so I could be worthy of him.
But he'd changed.
"Why are you so rude? What's with the painter staring at someone else's boyfriend?"
The girl's voice yanked me from my thoughts. I quickly lowered my gaze.
Russ murmured something soothing to her, then turned to me with ice in his eyes:
"Keep staring, and I'll gouge them out."
Back when I used to sketch for money on the side, my looks attracted trouble. Lowlifes would corner me—inviting me for late-night drinks, or just sitting too close while I worked, eyes crawling over me.
When Russ found out, he'd delivered a single cold warning:
"Look at her again, and I'll gouge out your eyes and feed them to the dogs."
They'd known he wasn't bluffing. They'd scattered like rats.
I let out a bitter laugh.
Funny how the same words had boomeranged back—and now they were aimed at me.
His gaze held that same warning.
As if the moment I said anything that threatened his relationship with this girl, he'd claw my eyes out himself.
"My apologies, sir, miss. I was just studying your composition for the portrait." I kept my voice even. "I'll start now."
Something flickered in Russ's eyes. Surprise.
He was probably wondering why I wasn't making a scene.
After all, I'd confronted him about the photos with the young model in his car. The late-night hotel visits with the internet celebrity. The housekeeper in the bathroom...
Every time, I'd demanded an explanation.
So why was I so calm now?
"Could you two hold hands? Move a little closer... more intimate..."
Once they adjusted, I began to draw.
I worked fast, capturing their likeness on paper with efficient strokes.
The moment I handed over the framed portrait, my phone buzzed. A message in our group chat.
[Russ, your wife didn't throw a fit this time. We lost that bet big time.]
[You were right—ignore her enough and she learns to behave.]
[Bro, you sent that to the wrong chat. She's in this group.]
Both messages vanished—recalled within seconds.
Russ's friends must have panicked. The chat exploded with random messages, desperately trying to bury the recalled texts beneath a flood of spam.
I looked up.