Billionaire Husband Chose My Sister, I Chose To Divorce

The tenth time one of my paintings appeared under my sister Rose's name, I handed Adrian the divorce papers.

He raised an eyebrow and tossed the agreement aside without a second glance.

"Don't be dramatic. Your hand is ruined -- where would you even go without me?"

I said nothing.

He smiled, his tone dripping with casual indifference. "You should be grateful. Rose was the one I was supposed to marry. A few paintings is a small price to pay. A little gratitude wouldn't kill you."

He blew a ring of cigarette smoke directly into my face. I choked, and the sting brought tears to my eyes.

Through the blur, I was transported back to the moment my tendons were severed for his sake -- a pain that had drilled straight to the bone.

He thought I had no choice but to take it.

What he didn't know was that I'd already accepted an offer from the Royal Academy of Arts in London.

Soon, I would be free of him for good.

At the gallery awards gala celebrating Rose's latest win, Adrian stood beside her as they received congratulations from the crowd. They looked like the perfect couple.

I stood in a corner, squinting at the painting displayed on the massive screen. The woman in the portrait smiled softly, eyes lowered. It was the piece I'd spent a month painting -- a gift I'd given Adrian when we first fell in love.

I took a deep breath, walked to the front of the stage, and summoned every last ounce of courage I had. My voice wasn't loud, but it carried.

"I spent an entire month on this painting."

I let the original sketches flutter from my hands onto the stage. A hush fell over the room, then erupted into noise.

Adrian strode toward me, brow furrowed, his voice low and dangerous. "What the hell are you doing? Apologize to Rose."

I shook my head. "This painting is different. You know what it means."

Something flickered across his face, as though a memory surfaced. But he only gripped my arm harder.

"Nothing matters more than Rose's reputation."

Pain radiated through my arm. Then Rose picked up the microphone.

"I'm sorry for the scene, everyone." She tapped the side of her head with one finger, her expression perfectly pitying. "Ever since my work first won an award, Lily has been... well." She sighed. "She does have talent, truly. But she's always been so competitive with me. She insists my paintings are hers."

She gestured at the scattered sketches. "I gave those drafts to her to make her feel better. Adrian can confirm."

Adrian stiffened, then released my arm and returned to Rose's side.

"That's right. My wife's condition has been worsening. We'd hoped to handle it privately, but -- well, I apologize for the disruption."

Someone in the crowd shouted: "She's obviously jealous that her sister's more talented. Jealous out of her mind! First she steals her sister's fiance, now she's trying to sabotage her career. Shameless!"

It was one of Rose's lackeys -- the same girl who'd bullied me all through high school.

The whispers and pointed fingers closed in around me. It felt exactly like those years of torment all over again. I clenched my jaw and fought to keep my spine straight.

Then a slap cracked across my face so hard I staggered. Before I could recover, a hand fisted in my hair and slammed me into a cocktail table. The back I'd just straightened crumpled under the pain.

"You ungrateful wretch, slandering your own sister like that -- why don't you just die?"

"Like mother, like daughter."

"Your mother's still lying in a hospital bed, and here you are causing trouble. No wonder she'll never wake up."

Richard jabbed his finger in my face, screaming, spittle hitting my skin. It was exactly the way he'd screamed at my mother years ago when she'd refused to let him bring Rose into our home.

My vision went red. I grabbed a bottle from the table and hurled it at him. Glass shattered everywhere.

Adrian suddenly stepped in front of me. He pulled me close and shielded me from the flying shards.

Then he turned and glared at Richard. "Don't let me see that happen again."

He addressed the room. "My wife is simply unwell. I trust everyone here knows what should and shouldn't be repeated outside these doors."

The guests laughed it off with practiced ease.

I looked up at his face. For a moment it merged with the face of the boy who'd protected me ten years ago -- only older now, harder.

Richard wrung his hands. "But this was Rose's first event since coming home, and this -- this girl ruined everything."

Rose bit her lip, eyes glistening with unshed tears, standing there with fragile dignity as she gazed at Adrian.

I felt his body go rigid. He looked down at me and softened his tone just enough.

"Go apologize to Rose."

Then he leaned in close, his lips at my ear, each word deliberate: "Don't forget -- your mother is in a hospital I fund."

Time seemed to stretch. He looked away from my stunned, disbelieving eyes. In that moment, years of devotion simply... faded.

I stood up slowly and, for the first time, bowed to Rose Thornton.

"I'm sorry. It was my fault."

Just as my mother had once bowed her head.

"Richard, I've accepted her as my own daughter. Please just let Lily go back to school."

When the camera shutters went off, Adrian didn't stop them.

I should have left Adrian Cole a long time ago. But it wasn't too late. Not yet.