One year with a grumpy billionaire

VI

art piece, Anticipation

e,their hushed conversations and

so fulfilled, happy and filled with so much life. This art piece is my life

splattered paint. I felt so proud and vulnerable. This was my declarat

ics and collectors gathered around my installation,

ment I've been waiting for my whole life. My chance t

that stepped for

ell known for his scathi

ze a lady's work beyond imagination. Tears filled

ous mind behind this...

lted me out

h and introduced my

s the struggle to break free from societ

n eyebrow,his

ious."

nism but the message feels.. personal

to my art piece

ams freedom. Freedom for anyone whose life

e only sound the soft hu

ghtfully, his exp

made a statement. I look forward to s

mpliments enveloped me. My art had resonated with strange

isn't meant for me. I could feel alive and happy for a momen

ll on a familiar figure at the bac

s,snuffing out the spark of joy

twisting into knots. I nev

was caught red-handed. I watched in dread as he walk

he art exhibition a secret from him, knowing full

l reminder of the countless times he

them as a waste of time, insisting that I focus on someth

it was my passion, my lifeline and o

and watched as his car

o face him eventually,and I wasn't looking forward to it. I started the engine

e front porch,his arms crossed over his chest. His fac

made my way into the house

his house and as expected,he wasted no tim

Vivian?" He demanded,his voice la

out your foolish dreams

ill standing on my claim. This is my career. I'm finally

ng to keep m

eer? It's a hobby, Vi

s face reddeni

in the art world. You've always dismissed my passion for art. You've never supp

standing

ling you

reddened w

k what it's done to our family. It ki

sensation, like

e of grief and anger crashing over me. How

rytime. It has nothing to do with this dad

a more successful life. Your mom wasted her life

is anger bo

k, feeling the st

, Dad. And I won't let you con

you're no longer my daughter. I disow

his face purp

ow, knocking the breath from my lun

the proposition of choo

isow

lt tears prick at the corners of m

way, Dad. But I won't cha

my voice

y mouth, Dad's expression c

s outstretched. "Vivian, I didn'

back, didn't stop until I was blocks away, my heart pounding in my chest. I felt lost and alone,

lly chasing my dreams. And no one, not eve