Susan's POV
They called me the Creator. A name whispered in elite art circles, printed in glossy magazine spreads beside photographs of my work—never my face. I had built a reputation on mystery, letting my paintings speak while I stayed hidden.
It was a game I had perfected. The wealthy collected my pieces without knowing they walked past me in airports, sat beside me in coffee shops, or queued behind me at the grocery store. I liked it that way. Fame was loud, but I had learned to prefer the quiet.
My life had become everything I once prayed for. I had my art, my peace, and my twins—my greatest masterpiece. Every morning began with their voices echoing through the house, and every night ended with their warm little hands clutching mine. The world outside could keep its noise; I had al
