"You're saying you're Ms. Jensen?" I bit back my words.
However, she stood there, all high and mighty. "If I'm not her, then are you? What? Got cold feet?"
Her act was so spot-on that I started to wonder if my dad really had a secret kid out there.
I swung my gaze back to Jaxon. "Is this why you stabbed me in the back?"
Jaxon's lips tightened, and he could not meet my eyes.
"I told you... There's nothing going on, and you—
"You're supposed to be an artist, but you can't even appreciate art. You've done zilch."
"Oh? You're an artist, too?"
Sarah snorted and said, "Has the bar for being an artist gotten so low? Can anybody just claim they're an artist now?"
I shot her a look. "So, Ms. Jensen, got any pearls of wisdom to share?"
Sarah wrapped her arms around herself, oozing arrogance.
"Everyone in our circle knows Rebecca, don't they?"
At the mention of Rebecca, my eyes slowly grew wide in disbelief.
"You can't possibly be telling me that you're that mysterious, elusive genius painter Rebecca, whose artwork fetches a fortune, can you?"
Sarah smirked with disdain. "Of course, that's me. Without Jaxon, a low-level artist like you wouldn't even get the chance to meet me."
The whole situation seemed like something out of a fantasy.
Was that woman going around stealing my identity and pretending to be in my profession?
Back at home, I could not shake off the image of Sarah confidently claiming she was Rebecca.
I absentmindedly flipped through my sketches, only to be startled.
My original drafts had vanished into thin air.
I was always careful with my sketches. I never took them out with me.
It was clear who had taken them.
When Jaxon returned, he avoided my gaze and made a beeline for the shower, looking guilty.
"Hold it right there." I stood up and stopped him. "Don't you have anything to say?"
Jaxon steadied himself and looked back at me. "What do you want me to say? It was just a modeling gig, alright? You've been upset all day. What do you really want?"
"Just a modeling gig?" Even though I was ready to let go, his nonchalant attitude still stung.
For this man, I had clashed with my father and had not been home in years.
I spent the money I made from my paintings on luxury items for him, feeding his ego.
He was an obscure artist, and I pulled strings to sell his work.
He claimed that an artist's hands were too valuable, so I did all the housework, cooking, and laundry.
Yet, my hands were meant for painting too.
If it were not for my love for him, I would still be the beloved youngest daughter at home, not relegated to playing his maid.
I did everything I could so he could chase his dreams, paint his heart out, and let his talent shine without a single worry holding him back.
However, then, he took a dive, posing as a nude model for someone else. Yet, he did not even see the problem.
I grabbed his collar, exposing a canvas of kiss marks on his skin.
"You call this nothing? Is this what art now demands?"
Jaxon, irritated, covered up the marks and pushed me off.
"If it sparks my inspiration, what's the harm? Didn't you always say you'd support my work? Yet you can't handle this little thing? No wonder you're still trailing behind after all these years of painting.
"Sarah's just a girl lost in her love for art. Don't taint what we have with your dirty mind!"
"Alright, let's cut to the chase," I said, sneakily hitting the record button on my phone and nodding toward the table behind me.
"Spill it. Where are my sketches?"
