Chapter 9

Look at you. I gave you everything, and this is how you repay me? By being that idiotic errand boy's whore?" He words make me flinch. I want to tell him that he gave me nothing. These are moments when I desperately wish my mother was still alive. Perhaps then, I wouldn’t be trapped with this despicable man who claims to be my father.

"I'll kill him," he declares, turning to leave. Instantly, I know he’s heading to the basement to get his shotgun.

Without hesitation, I rush to stand in his way, blocking his path. I fall to my knees and clasp my hands together in front of me.

"Please, don’t hurt him. I'll do anything you want. Just leave him alone. It's not his fault, I made him do whatever you think he has done." I plead. My father’s furious gaze pierces through me, filled with pure hatred.

"I wish you were never born," he sneers, causing me to tense up.

"Please," I whisper, my voice barely audible.

"Fine. I'll not allow you to be a cheap soothing like this. It's best if I find more suitable path for you. At least you will be of better use," he remarks, leaving me confused and unsure of his intentions.

"Pack your bags, we leave at dawn," he instructs, walking past me.

"Don’t do anything else that will seal that boy’s fate," he warns, and exits the kitchen. I know that my father plans are meant to permanently separate Nathan and me. The thought of never seeing him again brings fresh tears to my face.

2

Nathan

Nineteen Years Later

"Oh, sweet Nathan ,this is beautiful," Mrs. Nathan exclaims with genuine delight. Her fingers gently caress the painting I’ve crafted for her. She is one of the sweetest souls I’ve ever known. I decided to gift her a painting when I discovered how much she loves them but couldn’t get one due to financial restraints.

"Thank you, Mrs. Nathan. This is just a free work. I started it three weeks ago, inspired entirely by you,” I reveal, recalling the time, when I discovered her interest in my artwork. While millions of people want a piece of my artwork, but Mrs. Nathan holds a special place in my heart. Her selflessness sets her apart in this town, and It's an honor to do something for her.

"Oh, how sweet of you," she says without taking her eyes of the painting. The sparkle in her eyes mirrors exactly what I want to evoke in anyone who encounters my art – a profound connection that reaches the depths of their soul.

"Thank you, but I have to leave. I need to stop by a few more places," I tell her.

"Oh, it's fine. Thank you again for this," she says.

"You're very welcome."

I left her house a few minutes later. I need to get more materials. The orders I've received from my branches are spread out across the USA. Who could have imagined that my life would take such a turn?

Nineteen years ago, I lost everything, but now, I have everything I desire without the complications of love. I pause, I think of it. I promised myself never to dwell on the past but it's difficult not to think about how someone I was supposed to spend my life with betrayed me in the most painful manner. Anyway, lesson learnt. Love is nothing but serves as a backdrop for pain. I will never put myself in that vulnerable position again.

My next stop is Mark's shop. He gets me the best supplies for my paintings. After leaving the store, I return to my office.

"Don’t worry about this, Natalia’s uncle," I tell the seventeen-years-old boy temporary assisting me, as Mrs Ford is on maternity leave.

"Alright Nathan , Mrs Wilson is waiting for you." I pause upon hearing this.

"Mrs Wilson is here?" I ask by surprise.

"Yes, she arrived a few minutes ago and insisted on waiting for you," he says. I'm not surprised by this. Mrs Wilson rarely takes no for an answer.

"Thank you. I’ll see her now," I reply, leaving my supplies in storage before heading to the inner office. I find Mrs Wilson engrossed in her phone, her concentration unwavering until she suddenly looks up, promptly dropping her phone.

"Sweetheart," she squeals before rushing towards me. I prepare myself as she wraps her arms around me. I force a smile as she steps back and stares at me.

"I can tell your trip was enjoyable."

"Absolutely. The vacation was beautiful, all thanks to you," she says.

"It's nothing. You should be resting at home," I suggest.