I scrolled through the text, my breath hitching as I saw a photo of us from last year’s Christmas gala, back when I was still trying to smile through the cracks in my heart. The caption read: The visionary developer and his muse.
“While Diego manages the city’s most ambitious developments, his wife, Bella, has been quietly honing her craft,” the article read. “Sources close to the couple say Diego has been her biggest investor, providing the resources and the inspiration for her sudden rise to fame.”
I felt a surge of pure, hot disgust.
“Sources close to the couple?” I hissed at the empty studio. “He hasn’t even seen my workspace since I left him.”
I scrolled further, and it only got worse. Another tabloid had picked up the story, featuring a photo of Diego from a recent gala with a ca
