Chapter 1: The Wife He Erased

Claire's POV

“I'm sorry, ma'am, but your name isn't on the guest list.”

I looked past the security guard at the ballroom entrance. Through the open doors, I could see women in expensive gowns, waiters carrying champagne, and an enormous photograph of Jessica Collins above the stage.

“My husband is inside,” I explained, showing him my wedding ring. “Jason Miller. Please tell him Claire is here.”

The guard checked his tablet again. “Mr. Miller's guests have already arrived. I can't let you in without an invitation.”

I called Jason for the fourth time. He rejected it again.

The hospital had given me until tomorrow afternoon to arrange the thirty-thousand-dollar deposit for Dad's heart surgery. I'd exhausted my savings and sold several paintings to cover his previous treatment. This morning, I'd begged Jason for a loan.

“Thirty thousand dollars, Claire?” he'd snapped. “Do you think I have money sitting around for every problem your family creates?”

“I'll pay you back. Please, Jason. Dad needs this surgery.”

“Then sell more of those paintings you waste your time on. I'm not responsible for your father's poor health.”

He'd hung up while I was still pleading.

Now I stood outside an exhibition he'd reportedly spent millions sponsoring, wondering how I could make him understand that Dad couldn't wait.

My phone finally rang.

“Claire, what the hell are you doing at Jessica's exhibition?” Jason demanded.

“The hospital called again. They need the deposit by tomorrow afternoon, and I thought—”

“I already told you I can't help.”

“But you can spend millions on Jessica?”

“That's a business arrangement. Don't embarrass yourself by pretending you understand it.”

“Jason, please. Just come outside for five minutes.”

“Go home, Claire. You're not invited.”

The call ended before I could answer. I looked down at my wedding ring, remembering how he'd held my hands four years ago and promised that keeping our marriage private would only be temporary. I'd believed him through every missed anniversary and every photograph of him beside Jessica.

“Excuse me. Are you C. Miller?”

An older woman in a green evening gown had stopped beside me.

“Yes?”

“I bought your painting of the little girl beside a bedroom window last spring. I recognized you from your artist profile.” She smiled. “Are you exhibiting tonight?”

“No. I'm trying to speak with someone inside.”

She glanced at the guard. “My invitation allows a guest. She's coming with me.”

The guard checked her invitation before stepping aside. I thanked her, promising myself I'd find Jason, speak to him privately, and leave without causing trouble.

Inside, flowers covered the tables, and Jessica's name shone above the stage. I spotted Jason near the front, fastening a diamond necklace around Jessica's neck. She kissed his cheek while the surrounding guests applauded.

I remembered him telling me that thirty thousand dollars was too much to ask. He hadn't even asked whether Dad could still breathe comfortably.

“Beautiful, isn't it?” a woman beside me whispered. “Mr. Miller had that necklace specially made for her.”

I turned away, afraid she'd notice my tears.

Then I saw the painting behind Jessica.

My mother's blue window, the cracked frame, and the uneven brushstroke near the bottom were unmistakable. Mum had tried to finish that corner during her final week, but her hands shook so badly that I'd taken the brush from her.

“Don't paint over that little mistake, Claire,” she'd told me. “It's the last part we did together.”

I'd kept it exactly as she left it. Selling the painting after her death had hurt terribly, but Dad needed treatment.

Now Jessica's name appeared beneath it.

“This piece is particularly special to me,” Jessica told the gathering guests. “I painted it during a trip to France. It's about learning to leave the past behind.”

I approached her. “My mother painted that window.”

Jessica stopped speaking, and Jason turned toward me.

“Claire? What are you doing here?”

I looked at Jessica. “My mother started that painting before she died. I finished it after her funeral. How can you tell everyone you made it?”

Jessica gave a small laugh. “I'm sorry, who are you?”

“You know exactly who I am.”

“Jason, darling, is this one of your employees?”

Several guests laughed. Jason caught my arm, his fingers digging into my skin.

“Come with me. Now.”

I pulled away. “Did you buy my mother's painting?”

“Claire, lower your voice.”

“Did you?”

“Yes,” he answered impatiently. “I bought it through your broker. You received your payment.”

“You knew I sold it because Dad needed treatment.”

“And you got the money. What more do you want?”

I could hardly believe what I was hearing. “I want Jessica to stop claiming she painted it!”

Jessica folded her arms. “Jason bought those paintings for my exhibition. You should thank him for giving your little hobby some attention.”

“My mother died before she could finish that painting,” I told her. “I promised her I'd complete it.”

“How touching,” Jessica replied, glancing at the guests. “Unfortunately, a sad story doesn't make you an artist.”

I looked at Jason, waiting for him to say something. He'd seen me crying over Mum's sketchbooks after her funeral. He knew why I'd struggled to part with that painting.

“Apologize to Jessica, Claire,” he said.

“For what? She's claiming my work!”

“You sold it!” Jason snapped. “I paid the asking price. Stop acting as though someone robbed you.”

“Buying a painting doesn't make you its creator.”

The voice came from a man standing beside the nearest display. Ryan Bennett lowered his champagne glass and approached us. I'd seen him in business magazines and heard Jason curse his name after losing major contracts to him.

Ryan examined the painting before facing Jason.

“If Miss Collins created this, she should be able to explain its history,” he said. “Instead, you're threatening the woman who says she painted it.”

Jason's expression darkened. “Stay out of my business, Bennett.”

“You've made it everyone's business, Miller.” Ryan glanced at my arm, where Jason had grabbed me. “And I'd advise you not to put your hands on her again.”

Jason stepped toward him, but Jessica caught his sleeve.

“Darling, please. Everyone's waiting for your announcement.”

“What announcement?” I asked.

Jason ignored me. Jessica smiled as the host handed him a microphone.

“Thank you all for coming,” Jason began. “Tonight, we're celebrating an extraordinary woman who deserves every happiness.”

Jessica slipped her hand into his. When Jason reached into his jacket and brought out a velvet box, I understood why she'd been smiling all evening.

He intended to propose to her while I stood there wearing his wedding ring.

“Jason, don't,” I pleaded, moving toward him. “Please don't do this to me.”

He lowered the microphone. “Claire, I warned you.”

“You married me four years ago. You promised I wouldn't have to hide forever.” Tears blurred my vision. “Was any of it real to you?”

Jessica released his hand. “Jason, what is she talking about?”

“Tell her,” I begged. “Tell everyone why I've spent four years pretending I'm not your wife.”

The ballroom fell silent. Jason looked at Jessica, then at Ryan and the guests waiting for his answer. I watched his face, remembering the man who'd once promised to love me, and prayed that some part of him still meant it.

Instead, he handed the microphone to the host and beckoned to the security guards.

“Remove this woman,” he ordered. “I've never been married to her.”