Maya's POV
The paintbrush slipped from my fingers and clattered onto the floor.
I stared at the canvas in front of me, my heart racing. I hadn't meant to paint that. I hadn't even been thinking about it.
But there it was—Adrian's face, half-finished, staring back at me with those dark eyes that used to make me feel safe. Except in my painting, tears ran down his cheeks like rivers.
"No," I whispered, grabbing the brush. "I'm not doing this."
I turned away from the easel and looked around my new apartment. Boxes were stacked everywhere, some open, some still taped shut. My loft was tiny compared to the penthouse—just one big room with exposed brick walls and old wooden floors that creaked when I walked. The bathroom was smaller than Adrian's closet had been.
But it was mine. All mine.
I'd bought it six months ago with money from my grandmother's trust fund. The fund Adrian didn't know about because I'd never told him. Every month for half a year, I'd snuck away to meet with contractors, to pick out paint colors, to plan my escape.
The guilt of that secret felt heavy in my chest.
I shook my head and grabbed another box. This one was labeled "ART SUPPLIES" in my messy handwriting. I ripped off the tape and pulled out tubes of paint, brushes, and the palette I hadn't used in three years.
Three years since I'd stopped painting.
Three years since Adrian said my art was "a nice hobby" instead of calling it magical like he used to.
The big window across from me showed the city waking up. The sky was turning pink and orange. I'd been unpacking all night and hadn't even noticed.
My phone buzzed on the kitchen counter. I'd turned it back on an hour ago, and now I had forty-seven missed calls. All from Adrian.
My finger hovered over his name. Part of me wanted to call him back. Part of me wanted to explain everything, to make sure he understood why I had to leave.
But then I remembered his mother's face three days ago.
I remembered the words she'd said.
I remembered the choice she'd forced me to make.
I threw my phone back on the counter and returned to my easel. If I was going to start over, I needed to actually start. Not paint Adrian. Not think about Adrian. Not cry over Adrian.
I squeezed bright yellow paint onto my palette. Then red. Then blue. Colors I hadn't used in forever because Adrian said they were "too loud" for the penthouse's elegant design.
I started painting without thinking. My brush moved across the canvas like it had a mind of its own. Yellow became sunshine. Red became flowers. Blue became sky.
I painted for hours. The sun rose higher. My back started to ache. My hand cramped. But I couldn't stop.
This feeling—this alive, electric, burning feeling in my chest—I'd forgotten what it felt like. I'd forgotten that painting made me feel like I could fly.
"I missed you," I whispered to my canvas. "I missed this so much."
A knock on the door made me jump.
The paintbrush fell again, leaving a blue streak across the floor.
Who knew where I lived? I'd been so careful. I hadn't told anyone except—
"Maya!" a woman's voice called. "Open up! I brought coffee!"
I ran to the door and looked through the peephole. My best friend Sophie stood in the hallway holding two paper cups and a bag that probably had donuts in it.
I threw open the door. "How did you find me?"
Sophie grinned. "Girl, please. You think you can buy an apartment without me knowing? I'm a real estate agent, remember? I saw the sale go through six months ago." She pushed past me into the loft. "Nice place! Small, but nice. Very you."
She set the coffee and donuts on the counter, then turned to look at me. Her smile faded.
"Oh, Maya," she said softly. "You look terrible."
"Thanks," I muttered.
"I'm serious. When's the last time you slept?"
I shrugged. "I don't know. Yesterday? The day before?"
Sophie walked over and pulled me into a hug. I didn't mean to cry, but suddenly tears were streaming down my face and I couldn't stop them.
"I left him," I sobbed into her shoulder. "I actually did it. I left Adrian."
"I know, honey. I know."
"His mom—she told me—" I couldn't finish the sentence.
Sophie pulled back and looked at me seriously. "What did Catherine tell you?"
I wiped my eyes. "That Adrian only married me because of his father's will. That his dad left him everything on one condition—he had to be married by age thirty to someone his parents approved of. Adrian turned thirty the month before our wedding."
Sophie's face went pale. "What?"
"She showed me the will. The actual legal document. If Adrian gets divorced before he's forty, he loses everything. The company. The money. All of it goes to his younger brother instead."
"That's insane," Sophie whispered.
"Catherine said I had two choices. Walk away now with my dignity, or stay and watch Adrian choose his inheritance over me when the time came. She said he would never love me more than he loved his father's company. That I was just a checkbox on his to-do list."
"And you believed her?"
I thought about that. "I didn't want to. But Sophie, everything made sense suddenly. Why he proposed so fast after we met. Why his parents pushed so hard for a quick wedding. Why Adrian always put work first—it wasn't just ambition. It was survival. His whole life depended on that company."
Sophie was quiet for a moment. Then she said, "Did you ask Adrian if it was true?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because..." I took a shaky breath. "Because I'm scared he'll say yes. I'm scared I'll find out our whole marriage was a business arrangement and I was just too stupid to see it."
My phone buzzed again on the counter. Both of us looked at it.
"That's probably him," Sophie said.
"I know."
"You're going to have to talk to him eventually."
"I know that too."
Sophie picked up the phone and looked at the screen. Her eyebrows shot up. "Maya, this isn't from Adrian."
She handed me the phone. I had a new text from a blocked number.
*Your husband is at his father's office right now. He's looking for answers. But there's something you need to know before he finds them. Meet me at Riverside Park in one hour. Come alone. I have proof that Catherine is lying about the will. But if Adrian sees it first, he'll never believe you. -Someone who wants to help*
My hands started shaking.
"This is crazy," Sophie said. "You can't meet a stranger in a park. That's like every horror movie ever."
"But what if they're telling the truth? What if Catherine lied about the will?"
"Then Adrian can figure that out himself!"
I looked at my painting across the room. Adrian's face with tears on his cheeks. Something in my gut told me this message was important. That I needed to go.
"I have to," I said quietly.
"Maya, no—"
"If there's even a chance Catherine manipulated us both, I need to know. I need the truth before Adrian does."
Sophie grabbed my shoulders. "And what if it's a trap? What if Catherine sent this to lure you somewhere?"
I hadn't thought of that.
My phone buzzed again.
*Forty-five minutes now. The clock is ticking. Adrian is getting close to the truth. Once he opens that desk drawer, everything changes. You need to get there first.*
I looked at Sophie. "I'm going."
"Then I'm coming with you."
"The message said come alone."
"I don't care what the message said. You're not going by yourself."
I wanted to argue, but honestly, I was relieved. The thought of walking into that park alone made my stomach hurt.
"Okay," I said. "But we need to leave now."
We grabbed our coats and rushed out the door. As we ran down the stairs, Sophie said, "This is either really brave or really stupid."
"Probably both," I admitted.
When we reached the street, I looked back up at my loft window. The window where my easel stood. The window where I'd finally started painting again.
What if I never made it back? What if this mystery person was dangerous?
But then I thought about Adrian in his father's office, opening that desk drawer, finding whatever was hidden there. Finding the truth without me.
I couldn't let that happen.
"Come on," I told Sophie, and we started running toward the park.
Behind us, my phone buzzed one more time. Neither of us looked at it.
If we had, we would have seen a new message from Adrian:
Maya, I don't understand what's happening, but I found something. My father's will—it's not what my mother said. There's a letter. It's addressed to both of us. I think we've been set up. Where are you? I'm coming to find you.
But we were already gone.
And in Riverside Park, someone waited in the shadows with secrets that would destroy everything we thought we knew.