He Faked Poverty, I Dumped Him & Returned

Chapter 2

This was no studio at all.

It was Jacob's private gallery, crammed floor to ceiling with frames of every shape and size. Every single painting depicted the same person, Olivia.

Leaning closer, I saw the same words inscribed on each one: My muse.

I couldn't even begin to imagine how much effort had gone into filling an entire room with these works.

For five years, I had tried everything to coax him into painting me. I'd acted coy, I'd pleaded.

He always refused coldly. "What do you know about art? Painting you would only degrade my skills."

Even the one painting he did sell, the life drawing of me, had been done on a drunken whim. That was caught up in a fleeting moment.

The next morning, he'd regretted it and insisted on destroying the canvas. I had begged him desperately to keep it, believing it was a token of his love.

In the end, it became the very weapon that destroyed me.

The truth was, I could have uncovered this secret long ago. All I had to do was visit the studio once.

But for years, our entire household had depended on my income alone. I was too busy earning money to support Jacob's artist dreams, to improve our lives, and to pave a future for us both. I simply never had the time to come here.

Summer storms arrive without warning. I hadn't brought an umbrella, and by the time I got home I was soaked through. Seeing me, Jacob rushed over with a towel to dry my hair, concern written all over his face.

"How did you end up like this? You should've called me to pick you up if you didn't have an umbrella."

I looked at the man in front of me, dressed in clothes I'd bought for a few dozen dollars, his expression soft and attentive. He was a completely different person from the aloof, distant figure I'd seen that morning. A small ember of hope flickered in my chest, and I asked carefully, "Jacob... is there something you want to tell me?"

He looked slightly puzzled at first, then raised an eyebrow. "Of course there is! Did you know your painting actually sold for a hundred bucks?"

"Today's your birthday. I spent fifty bucks buying you a piece of clothing. Please wear it for me tonight, let me see how it looks. And I used the rest to buy a hen. Olivia helped hook me up with a gig, and she's been feeling a bit run down lately. I thought we could make some chicken soup to help her recover."

That was when I noticed Olivia sitting in the corner, looking utterly self-satisfied. Her face was rosy and radiant, showing no sign whatsoever of needing any help.

I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, the face I used to be so proud of now looked pale and gaunt, my body thin as a twig.

Such thoughtful care. He'd never once shown it to me.

Jacob valued experience above all else, so I'd kept taking medication to make sure a pregnancy wouldn't derail his career.

At last month's checkup, the doctor told me the drugs had damaged my body. I might never conceive again.

When Olivia stood up, I realized she was using the scarf I had knitted for Jacob to clean her shoes. It was a scarf that was made after months of practice, stitch by stitch.

I rushed over and snatched it back. I could clearly feel my heart splinter.

"This is mine. Who gave you the right to wipe your shoes with it?"

"Your senior's shoes were wet. It's just a scarf. You gave it to him, so he can do whatever he wants with it." Olivia smirked. "How much do you want? I'll just pay you. Why make such a big deal out of nothing? Jacob, did you see that? This is how poor people are. They love to split hairs over nothing, always seeing dollar signs."

My eyes burned red. I couldn't comprehend how someone could be so shameless, so brazen in twisting the truth.

After hearing Olivia's words, Jacob frowned hard as his jaw tightened. His voice came out flat. "Enough. It's just a damn scarf. It's not that serious."

At the dinner table, Jacob served both chicken legs to Olivia without a moment's hesitation. Then, after pausing briefly, he dropped the leftover chicken head into my bowl.

I picked it up and threw it on the floor.

My uncharacteristic defiance embarrassed him. His hand froze awkwardly in midair. "Ella, what is your problem?"

Olivia chimed in gleefully. "Ella, you must be tired of slumming it. Finally craving a chicken leg, are you? How very poor of you."

Her insinuation darkened Jacob's expression instantly. I met his eyes.

"Do you think I'm cheap? Cheap enough to brush off, cheap enough to let people toy with?"

"Have you had enough of the good life? If you don't want to eat, then get out."

He slammed his bowl down and stormed off with Olivia. Shards of broken ceramic flew everywhere, slicing into my skin. Blood trickled down, but I felt nothing.

Before bed, Jacob picked up the lingerie he'd bought and held it up against me with genuine excitement. "This clearance item was such a steal. Hurry, put it on."

I stared at the rough, cheap fabric. My mind flashed to the luxury bags I'd watched him buy for Olivia that morning.

A wave of nausea rolled through me.

Fifty bucks. That wouldn't even cover the dust bag those purses came in.

For the first time, I truly wondered if cutting ties with my family had been a mistake. I really regretted it.

My coldness infuriated him. "Ella, what the hell is wrong with you today? I was already putting up with you at dinner."

Then suddenly, he let out a strange laugh, as if a thought had just occurred to him.