Liam cut me off. “Of course, you didn’t have to!
This is your domain, you get anyone you want to handle it.”
“Now, you’re going to apologize to Chloe, or I’m calling the cops!”
I laughed bitterly, about to agree with him and call the cops. Chloe threw herself at Liam, stopping him from calling the cops.
Liam hissed, “Chloe won’t let me call them, fine, but I won’t forgive you!” He grabbed a nearby painting, throwing it at my feet. The wooden frame nearly crushed my toes, sharp edges digging into my skin. Blood started
seeping out.
“This is for Chloe! And listen up, everyone!
From now on, no one listens to Ashley in this
studio. If anyone follows her orders, get out
Ashley, when you’ve thought about what you’ve
done and apologized to Chloe, then come back
to the studio!”
Liam picked Chloe up, and bumped right past
me, not even looking back. I stood there, and
tears spilled out onto the broken frame. It was
the painting he’d spent three months on when
he proposed. Our dream to go to Paris and
watch the sunset. The love he’d once shown me
was a long–forgotten thing, his promises
shattered by his own hands. I took the canvas
from the frame, tore it into 48 pieces, and
threw it in the trash.
- 5.
Liam was right; his studio wasn’t my concern.
anymore. I wasn’t his official manager, I was
just his wife who managed his career. But I wasn’t going to be that anymore, either.
<
The next morning, I went to my office to clear
my desk. I heard the studio manager trying to
reason with Liam. “Mr. Walker, you were too
rash yesterday. All these years, Mrs. Walker has
handled everything. If she stops coming, the
next exhibit will be a total mess.”
Liam scoffed. “She’s just riding on my success.
It’s all because of my talent.”
“If she doesn’t want to do the work, I’ll get
Chloe to do it. It’s all just busywork anyone can
handle.” Then Liam seemed to remember
something. “Chloe’s different, she doesn’t want
to suck up to people so, don’t let her join any
drinking events.” I was about to go in and hand
over my job duties, but there was no point
anymore.
My phone beeped. Paris said my visa was
ready. I went home and started packing.
Halfway through, Liam came home, with a box
<
of pigeon soup. I saw the broken seal and
nearly empty soup and dumped the leftover
soup in the trash.
Liam was about to blow up, but the soup in the
garbage stopped him in his tracks. “Don’t get
the wrong idea, it’s not leftovers,” he muttered.
He forgot that I’m allergic to pigeon soup. Liam
had been young and angry when he’d gotten in
a fight and I’d taken a knife for him, he’d then
bought pigeon soup to help me heal. I ended up
in the ICU. He swore he would never let me
have pigeon soup again. But time had erased
even those memories.
Maybe my silence made Liam uncomfortable.
He paced around me before giving up and
trying to sound sorry. “I was out of line today. I
humiliated you in front of everyone. But I am
the head of this studio, I have to treat everyone fairly.”
“I’m not saying that I don’t want you to work in
<
my studio anymore. Maybe you could say sorry
to Chloe…”
“Excuse me.” I ignored him, going into the
bathroom to get my toiletries. Liam’s words just
floated into nothing.
