Chapter 2: His Rival's Attention

Claire's POV

The guards approached, but I couldn't look away from my husband. Four years of marriage, and he'd denied me without hesitation. I waited for him to correct himself, even though the disgust on his face told me he wouldn't.

Jessica stepped closer to Jason. “You heard him. Stop harassing my future husband. This obsession is embarrassing.”

“Your future husband?” I glanced at the velvet box Jason was putting away. “You might want to hear what he hasn't told you.”

“Claire, leave,” Jason warned. “You've caused enough trouble.”

I opened our wedding photograph on my phone. Jason wore the navy suit he'd chosen for our private ceremony, his arms wrapped around my waist. I'd been laughing because he refused to release me when the photographer asked us to stand apart.

I showed the photograph and marriage certificate to the nearest guests.

“We married four years ago. Jason insisted we keep it private, but that doesn't make me any less his wife.”

Jessica leaned forward. “A photograph doesn't prove anything.”

“Then ask him why he's wearing a wedding ring.”

People crowded closer. Someone whispered that the certificate looked genuine. Jason reached for my phone, but I pulled it away.

“Put that away,” he said.

“Why? Because it proves you lied?”

Jessica turned on him. “Jason, is that certificate real? Were you married when we started seeing each other?”

He glanced around the room. “Claire and I had an arrangement. Whatever existed between us ended a long time ago.”

An arrangement.

That morning, I'd ironed his shirt while he complained about breakfast. Three nights earlier, I'd waited until midnight with his dinner because he'd promised to come home.

“You slept beside me last night,” I said. “You kissed me goodbye this morning. Was that part of our arrangement too?”

“Don't discuss our private life here,” he snapped.

“You just told everyone we didn't have one.”

Jessica laughed bitterly. “So you hid her because you were ashamed of her?”

I looked at the diamonds around her neck. “You should be asking why he lied to both of us.”

“At least he isn't ashamed to stand beside me,” she replied.

I couldn't answer immediately. I'd spent four years believing that one day Jason would reach for my hand in public. Tonight, he'd planned to put a ring on another woman's finger.

“Give me your phone,” Jason demanded. When I refused, he signaled to security. “Take it.”

One guard reached toward me.

“Keep your hands off her.”

Ryan Bennett stepped between us. He hadn't raised his voice, yet the guard stopped immediately.

“Mr. Bennett, this doesn't concern you,” Jason said.

“Then stop making it everyone's concern.” Ryan faced the guard. “You have no authority to confiscate her property. Step away.”

The guard retreated.

Jason's expression darkened. “Enjoying yourself, Bennett? Is this how you plan to get ahead of my company?”

Ryan regarded him without the slightest embarrassment. “I came to see an exhibition, Miller. You're the one turning it into a public disgrace.”

A few guests exchanged looks. Jason opened his mouth, but I stepped forward.

“Enough. Neither of you needs to fight my battles.”

I pulled off my wedding ring. For four years, I'd worn it everywhere, even when Jason asked me to turn the diamond inward so nobody would recognize it.

I placed it on the table beside Jessica's flowers.

“I want a divorce.”

Jason stared at the ring before laughing. “And where will you go, Claire? You have no money, no powerful family, and a father whose surgery you can't afford.”

My throat hurt. He knew I'd spent the morning begging the hospital for more time. He knew Dad had apologized to me for being ill.

“You're right about one thing,” I answered. “I don't know where I'll find the money. But I won't stay married to someone who uses my father's life to punish me.”

I walked away before he could see my tears.

Outside, I stopped beneath the entrance canopy and pressed a hand against my mouth. Dad was waiting for me to tell him everything would be fine. I didn't even know where I'd sleep tonight.

“Claire?”

Ryan stood a few feet away, giving me room to compose myself.

“If you've come to tell me I made a mistake, please don't,” I said.

“I came to make sure you got outside safely. Jason doesn't take humiliation well.”

“Neither do I, apparently.”

His mouth curved slightly. “You had every reason to be angry.”

“I don't need another billionaire explaining my husband's behavior.”

“Fair enough.” He reached into his jacket and offered me a card. “Bennett Group is commissioning work for a new development. I'd like to see your portfolio.”

I hesitated. “You don't even know whether that painting is mine.”

“No. But you knew details about it that Jessica couldn't explain, and I've heard of C. Miller. Send me your work. My team will assess it.”

“I'm not interested in charity.”

“Neither am I. If your work isn't suitable, I'll tell you.”

For the first time that evening, someone had spoken to me as an artist rather than Jason Miller's unwanted wife.

I accepted the card. “Then judge me fairly.”

“I intend to.”

My phone vibrated. Jason had called six times, but the latest message came from the hospital. The thirty-thousand-dollar deposit had to be confirmed by tomorrow afternoon to secure Dad's surgical slot.

I called my broker immediately. She had two paintings available, but no committed buyer and no advance she could release tonight.

When the call ended, I pictured Dad in his hospital bed. He'd squeezed my hand that morning and asked whether I was eating properly. He was frightened of dying, yet he was still worrying about me.

Jason's message appeared.

Come home. Apologize to Jessica publicly and agree to keep our marriage private. I'll pay the deposit tonight.

I stared at the screen. Thirty thousand dollars. One apology. Dad could have his operation.

For a terrible moment, I considered it.

Then I remembered Jason telling strangers he'd never married me. If I returned tonight, he'd know he could threaten Dad whenever he wanted something from me.

I'm not coming home, Jason. And I won't apologize for telling the truth.

His reply arrived almost immediately: Then I'll make sure every collector I know stops buying your paintings.

I looked at Ryan's business card in my hand. A portfolio review wouldn't put thirty thousand dollars in the hospital's account by tomorrow.

Another message appeared: You want to leave me, Claire? Then save your father without my money.