Chapter 2

Sabrina's tone was like she was ordering around an employee. It sent a chill down my spine.

For seven years, I'd taken care of her daily life, and she'd taken it all for granted.

"Am I just some live-in help you can summon and dismiss whenever you feel like it?"

I hung up before she could answer.

The day after Sabrina's call, she showed up at my studio door.

She was holding an elaborately wrapped gift box.

"Vincent, I brought you a present."

Sabrina set the box in front of me, a hint of pride in her voice. "Colin specially took me to pick this out. He said something younger-looking would keep you from seeming so... stale."

I opened the box.

Inside was a garish sports watch with glowing neon edges.

It was exactly the kind of thing a boy like Colin—who thought he was trendy—would love. It clashed completely with the tailored suits in my closet.

Tacky, flashy, and ridiculously cheap-looking.

Without a word, I grabbed the watch and threw it out the window.

"Vincent!" Sabrina's eyes went wide. "Have you lost your mind?"

I looked at her, my voice icy. "You let your boy-toy student pick out a gift for me, forced his tasteless style on me, and expected me to be grateful?"

Sabrina opened her mouth, ready to defend herself and Colin.

Suddenly, a sharp ringtone cut through the air.

She answered the phone, her tone instantly soft and concerned. Through the receiver, I heard Colin's frantic, rambling voice. His dog was sick.

Sabrina soothed him anxiously. Without even a glance back at me, she headed straight for the door.

"Colin needs me right now. We'll talk later."

And just like that, she was gone.

A full month passed without any contact between Sabrina and me.

After calming Colin down, she'd locked herself away to focus on her work, making a final push for her upcoming retrospective.

I was busy, too.

Busy getting fitted for a tux, busy choosing invitations, busy planning a future with a woman who actually knew how to respect me.

That's when Sabrina called. She asked what I was doing.

"I'm looking at invitation samples," I replied.

There was a pause on the other end.

Then Sabrina let out a light laugh. Her tone relaxed completely, even tinged with a hint of self-pity. "Oh... I knew it."

She naturally assumed I was preparing for our wedding.

"Fine, you handle those little details yourself," she said dismissively. "You know I only care about the art. As long as you're there, I don't care about the formalities."

She hung up.

The screen lit up again immediately.

A photo from Colin.

It was an oil painting.

In it, Colin lay naked against rumpled fabric—his broad shoulders, taut waist, and defined muscles exuding raw, aggressive masculinity with every brushstroke. It was blatantly, unapologetically sensual.

Every stroke felt like an intimate caress, far beyond artistic expression.

My phone slipped from my fingers, thudding softly onto the carpet.

My head buzzed like it was about to explode.

Back when we were deeply in love, I'd begged Sabrina to paint me like that.

She refused, looking at me with a sacred, solemn expression.

"Vincent, true art captures the soul, not the body."

Turns out, there was no such thing as "only the soul." I had just never truly reached her heart.

Colin's messages kept coming.

[Sabrina says she'll personally curate my solo exhibition and introduce me to her inner circle. She says my spiritual aura shouldn't be buried—unlike some people who are only fit for grunt work.]

Five years ago.

To help Sabrina secure a tiny spot in a group exhibition, I stood outside a famous curator's door for three hours during a blizzard.

When I limped back to the studio, shivering and holding that hard-won invitation as a surprise, all I got was a look of disgust from Sabrina.

She coldly scolded me: "You reek of tacky, calculating ambition. It's nauseating. You're polluting pure art."

But now?

The woman who saw my sacrifice as "calculating ambition" was lowering herself to handle the social maneuvering she once despised—all for Colin.

Chasing her for seven years... I was exhausted.

In body, mind, and heart, I was ready to let her go completely.

Three days later. An art salon at a downtown gallery.

A friend said she'd acquired a painting and wanted my opinion.

The moment I stepped inside, I saw Colin.

"Well, if it isn't Vincent?!" Colin called out when he spotted me.

People turned to look.

He raised his voice deliberately. "I know Sabrina's been too busy for you lately, but you didn't have to follow her here, did you? Everyone says you've been stalking her, forcing her to marry you. It's pathetic."

Whispers spread through the crowd.

"That's Sabrina's fiancé? The one she stood up 99 times?"

"Still forcing a wedding? How desperate can you get?"

"He's getting older. Probably can't keep a woman's interest anymore."

I didn't engage. I turned to leave.

But Colin stuck his foot out.

I lost my balance, stumbling forward—

But the impact never came.

Amelia caught me, pulling me firmly back onto my feet.

"Vincent!"

A roar broke the silence.

Sabrina pushed through the crowd, storming over. When she saw Amelia holding my arm, her eyes turned bloodshot. Jealousy and possessiveness twisted her face into something ugly.

"What are you doing?! Let him go!"

She lunged forward, reaching to drag me away.

Amelia didn't back down. Instead, she stepped in front of me, looking at Sabrina like she was watching a clown show.

Suddenly, Colin let out a gasp.

Red wine dripped down the front of his white shirt, spreading into a deep crimson stain.

Colin clutched his chest, tears instantly welling in his eyes. "Vincent... why did you throw wine on me..."

It didn't even make sense—I was nowhere near him. How could I have thrown wine on him right in front of Sabrina?

Sabrina immediately took off her jacket and wrapped it around Colin.

She turned and glared at me. "Why do you have to be so vicious? Can't you just let him exist in peace?"

Fine. Sabrina would believe his pathetic lie.

No matter what, she always took Colin's side.

When I didn't respond, Sabrina took a deep breath. She lowered her voice, adopting a "magnanimous" tone.

"Alright. Stop this. I know you're acting out because you're upset. Just apologize to Colin right now, and I promise I'll show up on time for our next registration appointment. I give you my word."

Amelia started to speak up for me.

I held out a hand to stop her.

"Sabrina, listen to me."

"First, I didn't throw any wine on him."

"Second, I am getting married. But not to you."

"So you don't ever have to show up for a registration again."