Billionaire Husband Chose My Sister, I Chose To Divorce
The tenth time one of my paintings appeared under my sister Rose's name, I handed Adrian the divorce papers.
He raised an eyebrow and tossed the agreement aside without a second glance.
"Don't be dramatic. Your hand is ruined -- where would you even go without me?"
I said nothing.
He smiled, his tone dripping with casual indifference. "You should be grateful. Rose was the one I was supposed to marry. A few paintings is a small price to pay. A little gratitude wouldn't kill you."
He blew a ring of cigarette smoke directly into my face. I choked, and the sting brought tears to my eyes.
Through the blur, I was transported back to the moment my tendons were severed for his sake -- a pain that had drilled straight to the bone.
He thought I had no choice but to take it.
What he didn't know was that I'd already accepted an offer from the Royal Academy of Arts in London.
Soon, I would be free of him for good.