Married To My Ex’s Ruthless Brother

Heather: I always felt the strokes. Every single line arched into perfection, bringing out my innermost desire and watching it surface, and gain life as it laid on a piece of canvas. I stood in the hallways, watching with pride as my paintings stood high and tall, every little piece, a perfection to say the least. " Heather" I heard a voice call from behind me. If the sound of the clicking heels on the floor was not enough to prove my suspicion of who it was, then the perfume that filled the air as he walked towards me did a great job. " Andre, I was just about to come look for you. The exhibition is over and I can say it was a success." I said laughing. He wrinkled his perfect nose. " Success? Oh honey we both have different meanings of success. I was going to make Brianne tell you this but since I'm your manager I might as well get it over with. Your art doesn't sell Heather. Every single one of them. Some of the people complain about them being too complex, too many strokes all at once" he said. From his rainbow-colored outfit to his redhead, I could tell that he was trying his hardest to word it perfectly. " It's my art. That is why it's called art." I said to him, the happiness that once loomed in my eyes was now gone. " Well, you know the company we work for is kind. They want you to go again with an exhibition around next month" he said to me. I could tell from the way he wriggled his fingers that there was more. " And what is the catch? I know the company won't be willing to throw more money at me if it won't work out" I said to him. " Oh, it's just a little thing. They want to bring in another artist. He is to teach you how he paints so you can create masterpieces of your own using his style. Don't worry, the costs are fully covered by the company." He said. I could not believe my ears. The sheer stupidity of it all. " Are you listening to yourself? You want to bring in an artist to train an artist?" I asked him. " That's the only way Heather, and I don't know why you are proving so stubborn about this. I'm your manager and you should know that I always have your best interests at heart. We can make changes to some of the works you have and get you selling art in no time" he said. I could feel the high mood I was in, like a bag of potatoes. " I have to go home, it's getting late," I said to him. I turned around to walk away but his next words stopped me again. " You should not think about it for too long. So many artists are willing to take your place and if you refuse you might end up being kicked out" he said. I could have replied to him. Perhaps, give him the middle finger so he could relay my message perfectly to the people who sent him. But I didn't. Instead, I walked back into my small, quaint dressing room, picking up my worn-out bag and my paint brushes. The words were now floating in my ears, nearly drowning me. " Not good enough. Too disturbing. A broken artist" They all intertwined into one loud voice, nearly drowning me in their voices until suddenly, like a beacon of hope, my phone rang loudly, jolting me out of my misery. " Mum you are supposed to be asleep by now," I said into the receiver as I picked up my bag, walking out of the luxurious building and embracing the cold air that was thrown at me the moment I stepped my feet into the streets. " Oh, I know, baby. How was your exhibition?" She asked. I winced. " It was good. A lot of people loved it" I said to her. Better to lie than to put her through the misery of trying to comfort me through the phone. " Oh, that is so good... " She said. The line went dead for a few seconds, as though she was contemplating her next line of words carefully. " What is it, mum?" I asked. I was standing in front of the taxi I ordered, thinking about the frozen lasagna I had to get back home and reheat. " You know the man we borrowed money from when your dad was in the hospital?" She asked slowly. How could I forget? My father had suddenly needed an urgent heart transplant. We had borrowed money from a loan shark. He had died anyway, leaving us with a bulk load of debt and a vengeful loan shark. " Well, he stopped by today. He came with some goons and well, they rendered the whole house in shambles. I barely got out alive in time. He promised to come back next week and if we don't have the money by then..." She said and trailed off. I could almost imagine her there. Sitting on our raggedy sofa that was probably already trashed by the goons, trying to hold in her sob, to sound strong for me even though she was breaking at the other end of the phone. " I understand Mum. If it's too hard for you, come stay with me here for a while. You can bring Amelia along too. Her missing a few days of school won't hurt" I said. " No, I'm fine here, and I hate to bother you so much but please..." She said, " It's fine. I will try my best to get the money before next week. Tell Amelia I love her" I said and with that, I ended the call. I did not want her to hear my voice quiver. I did not want her to hear me sigh and ask for divine intervention. The cab was toasty even though the city air was vengeful. I should go home, put my frozen lasagna in the fridge, and dig into it while watching a rerun of Family Guy. But I couldn't do that. Not when I felt like I could pass out at any moment. " Flower house, 269 Street please," I said to the driver. I watched him whizz past the streets, driving me to the only place I could find my solace and calm on days like this. When I finally arrived at the address, I got down. I tried to remember when I last saw my boyfriend, but my head kept pulling up blank. Our relationship has been so cold lately, perhaps all he needs is a surprise visit. I would have knocked on the door, but it was slightly ajar, as though he had run out in a hurry. My heartbeat quickened when I took another step into the house and the lingerie of another woman stared at me plain blank like day. I should have turned back when I began to hear the moans but I didn't. I walked further into the house to meet him in bed with a woman. “Heather!” He gasped. “What are you doing here?” He tried to cover up his body. It was his eyes. Those eyes held no form of remorse. As though my walking in on him was nothing. The girl stood up slightly, her blonde hair peeking from beneath the covers and my breath caught in my throat. " Camille" I gasped out, my heart beginning to shudder. " Babe..." She called out. Babe? " Babe? Camille,” I was shocked. It felt like I was dreaming. “Camille, you are my best friend! You know he is my boyfriend! I told you everything about us. I told you when we fought, when we laughed, when we ate. I trusted you with everything! I loved you like my sister" I said. I was yelling now, hot tears streaming down my cheeks. I wondered if I was crying because I caught them in bed together, or if I was just crying because the whole day felt too overwhelming. " Heather...I did not mean for you to see us like this...at least not now. I was going to tell you" he said, his excuse weak, his hands wrapped around her as though I was a threat to her safety. How did my life end up like this? " I dated you only because of her. And now I'm closer to her so...I know this may hurt you but" he was saying but I was not willing to listen to it all. He already made his point loud and clear. I was the other woman. I spun on my heels, tears blocking my view as I stumbled out of his house, my legs wobbly, my mind in shambles. Maybe it was because of how broken I felt Inside, but I knew I did not see the headlights until they were so close to me, and when I finally did, it was too late. I felt my body fly and hit the ground with a dull thud, and almost immediately, I felt the darkness embrace me.