Chapter 1

Kate's POV

I was once a celebrated, genius oil painter. The art world called me a prodigy.

But I put down my brushes to support my husband's startup.

I washed the paint from my hands to become the perfect wife. I sacrificed my entire career to care for our family.

I thought my sacrifice bought us a flawless, happy home.

Just days ago, my sweet, ten-year-old daughter, Nina, clung to my arm. "Mommy, come to Italy with me!"

She waved a brochure for an exclusive, half-month closed-door art summer camp. "I just want it to be the two of us. No Dad allowed!" She looked up at me with such innocent, pleading eyes.

Alan, sitting right next to us, didn't look disappointed at all.

Instead, he let out a loud, eager laugh. "That's a brilliant idea! You two definitely need some bonding time."

He pulled out his phone and booked our flights on the spot.

I was overjoyed. I thought it was the perfect chance to deepen my bond with my daughter.

I kissed my husband goodbye at the airport, thanking him for being so understanding. I didn't suspect a single thing.

I was a complete, utter fool.

Right now, I am sitting alone in a lavish hotel room in Florence. Nina is fast asleep in the next room.

Missing our golden retriever, I opened the HD pet monitor app on my phone. I expected to see my dog snoozing on our custom living room rug.

Instead, the screen was empty.

And the sounds coming through the speaker made the blood freeze in my veins.

"...right there. God, Alan, yes."

A woman was moaning. On my sofa. In my house.

Then, my husband's voice.

"You like that, Lillian?"

Lillian.

Lillian Reed.

Nina's highly-paid, exclusive private equestrian coach.

My fingers gripped the phone so hard my knuckles turned white.

"Are you sure Kate won't come back early?" Lillian purred, her voice dripping with sweat and malice.

I held my breath, waiting for Alan to show even a sliver of guilt.

Instead, he let out a smug, arrogant laugh. "Relax," Alan scoffed. "She's not going anywhere."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because Nina is making sure of it."

My heart violently slammed against my ribs.

"Nina will do whatever it takes to keep her mom stuck in Europe," Alan boasted.

"All I had to do was promise her that purebred pony she's been begging for."

A wave of nausea hit me so hard I gagged.

My daughter. My sweet, innocent ten-year-old Nina.

She had begged me for this half-month, closed-door top-tier art summer camp in Italy.

And Alan booked our tickets immediately.

I thought he was just being a loving father, giving us a chance to bond.

I was a fool.

They had conspired against me. Father and daughter.

My own flesh and blood had sold me out for a horse.

"Mmm... doing it on her custom rug makes it so much more thrilling," Lillian giggled, her tone openly provocative.

"You're a bad girl," Alan groaned, entirely indulging in the sick thrill of defiling our home.

The wet, slapping sounds coming from my phone were a physical assault.

I collapsed onto the floor. Tears streamed down my face, hot and bitter.

A memory from college pierced my mind, sharp as broken glass.

Alan, nineteen years old, kneeling on the floor of my dorm room.

He was sobbing so hard his whole body shook.

His father's affair had just been exposed.

"I'll never be like him, Kate!" he had sworn, clutching my hands desperately.

"I swear to God, I will never put you through the pain my mother is feeling right now."

It was the moment I truly fell in love with him.

The moment I believed he was different from all the rest.

Now, that memory was nothing but a sickening, pathetic joke.

He hadn't just become his father. He had become something far worse.

He had turned our daughter into his accomplice.

The sheer cruelty of it suffocated me.

I wanted to scream. I wanted to catch the next flight back and burn that house to the ground.

But then, my phone vibrated in my hand.

A new email notification slid across the top of the screen.

Sender: David Hayes.

My former gallery partner.

I opened it with trembling fingers.

Subject: New York Calling.

[Kate, I know you stepped back for the family. But the art world misses you. Come to New York. Let's reopen your exhibition. Your talent shouldn't be buried forever. I'll wait for you in New York in two months.]