When Trust Became a Poisoned Blade

closing; it was a finality, sealing me in a prison of my own shattered hopes. I was alone, crumpled on the floor, the pain in my head

aid, his eyes filled with a concern I now recognized as a performance. "You just focus on Alexis, focus on

ty world. His visits to the cabin, the gentle reassurance that everything was "under control," the fabricated news about Elisa's "assistance" with my

oking out for his fragile artist wife. He nurtured my delusions, making sure I never suspected the elaborate charade unfoldin

lie. He had been orchestrating my downfall, systematically stealing my life, piece by piece, while I lay emotionally vulnerable, my heart tethered

ne to hear my truth. But a colder, more calculating part of me reined it in. Not yet. Not like this. If I reacted now, I would seem hysterical, just as they

in the office was deafening, punctuated only by my ragged breathing.

named Clara who had always championed my work. I almost ignored it, my m

ad: "Your old work

d upon some of my older, unpublished sketches from before the "incident," and she still believed in my unique a

espair. Someone still believed. Someone saw my work, my ta

y could take it, mold it, claim it as their own? They thought they could eras

tive frenzy, channeling all my pain and fury into a new series of comics, raw and unfiltered.

a masterpiece of emotional depth." She talked about a comeback, a new era for 'Wish.' Hope, real hope this tim

line art magazine, I saw it. Elisa Conway. Featured prominently. With my new series. The s

tinguished, leaving behind a bitter ash. He had done it again. Emmett. He had known. He had probably facilitated it,

s. A wave of dizziness washed over me, my knees threatening to buckl

there, a practiced, gentle smile on his face, a glas

th, almost purring. "Are you alright? You

y voice was a choked whisper. "My work, Emmet

she? A true talent. It's truly remarkable how similar your styles are." He paused, a cruel smirk playing on his lips. "But Adelia, let's

e were discussing a broken faucet, not the theft of my soul.

ou were canceled. Who would publish you? Elisa, bless her heart, stepped in. She's keeping your legacy alive, in a way. And

t wasn't just about money; it was about control, about power

lve I was trying to maintain. "You... you are a monster. How c

You have a roof over your head, the best medical care for Alexis. You really think you could survive out there without me? Without our name?" His voice dropped, a subtle menace underlying the feigned concern. "And

ild, was threatening her life, her care, to control me. He was a puppeteer, and I, the stringed doll, was finally seeing the thread

t. For all of us. I'm just looking out for our future. My family has certain expectations. Obligations to Elisa's family, you understand? We go way back

e. I closed my eyes, the smell of his cologne, entwined with Elisa's perfume, making me want to gag. He was a strange

arer than it had ever been. He had ma