Part 3Seven Years of Secrets

I pretended not to understand the sarcasm laced in his words, simply nodding before hurrying away.

The next day, as promised, I arrived at his villa.

Susan greeted me at the door and even poured me a cup of tea.

“Ms. Kang. It’s been a long time,” she said, a faint, knowing smile on her face as she took in my confused expression. “You probably don’t remember me. Nathan and I were in the same department. I used to see him going to find you all the time.”

Now I knew why the name had felt familiar.

Susan had known him for just as long as I had.

“I used to be so envious of you,” she continued. “A man like him, born to such privilege, so cold to everyone else, yet he only had eyes for you.”

“I never imagined you two would break up so… decisively.”

I managed a tight, awkward smile and retreated to a corner to set up my easel, not daring to say another word.

He was cold because of his illness.

And he only had eyes for me probably because… I was relentless.

But all of that was in the past.

Now, my subjects were Nathan and Susan, a perfect, storybook couple.

I spent the morning at their home, painting a scene of them watering flowers in the garden, Nathan’s hand resting on her waist.

“It’s beautiful. No wonder Nathan insisted on hiring you,” Susan said with a satisfied nod, handing me a glass of water. “You’ve been painting all morning. You must be tired. Take a break.”

I accepted it without a second thought and took a large gulp.

Scalding hot water seared its way down my throat. I clutched my neck, coughing violently.

“Oh, dear! I forgot this was freshly boiled water!” Susan exclaimed, standing up with a look of apology. In her haste, she knocked over the glass.

My morning’s work was instantly ruined, a wash of bleeding colors.

But I barely registered it.

The pain in my throat led to an endless fit of coughing. Soon, I couldn’t breathe.

It was Nathan who came rushing in. He carried me to a room and forced an asthma inhaler into my mouth.

The black fog clouding my vision slowly receded. As my breathing evened out, I saw Nathan’s red-rimmed eyes.

And behind him, on the nightstand, was a row of unopened asthma medication.

The same brand I used to use.

“Jess,” Nathan’s voice trembled. “Wasn't three million dollars enough for you to buy yourself the best medicine?”

I slowly sat up, waving a dismissive hand. “Of course I did. It was three million dollars. You don't have to worry about me not taking care of myself.” I gave him a weak smile. “I haven't had an attack in ages. What just happened was an accident. I know Ms. Lin didn’t mean to…”

“Shut up.”

I stared at him, stunned by his sudden interruption.

“I looked into it. Painting hasn't been your main profession for years.”

Nathan’s voice was numb, as if he were reading my death sentence.

“You haven't sold a single painting. Your name disappeared from the art world seven years ago.”

“The reason you gave for leaving me was your art.”

“But now, even the asthma inhaler you carry is the cheapest kind you can buy.” As if by magic, he produced the small plastic inhaler from my bag. He took a step forward, trapping me against the headboard.

“So you tell me,” he hissed, his face inches from mine. “What did you really do with that three million dollars?”