Chapter 4

Three years ago, our family lived in a three-bedroom apartment.

Dad was a teacher at a private school.

Every day, he'd come home, hum while he cooked in the kitchen.

I was in my first year of high school, spending all my free time in the art studio.

That year, I won first prize in the art competition.

The judges said I had exceptional talent with color and recommended me for early admission to a top art school.

Mom didn't come home often.

But when she did, she'd sit on the couch and watch me draw.

She'd smile and say my talent was like hers.

Those were the happiest days of my life.

Until one day, Mom suddenly stormed home, slamming the door.

She smashed Dad's phone on the floor, pointing at him.

"Michael Dawson, you're absolutely shameless!"

"Look at these pictures yourself!"

On the table was a stack of printed photos.

Dad hugging a young woman, picking out jewelry at the mall.

Dad's face went white.

"That's not me, Eleanor, listen to me—"

"Shut up!"

She slapped him.

"Caleb Blackwood investigated for a month! You've been with that student for a whole year!"

I rushed out of my room.

"Mom, let Dad explain—"

She didn't even turn around.

"He cheated on me, he cheated on you. I can't stay in this house for another day."

That night, the lawyer arrived.

The agreement was already drawn up.

The house was hers, the car was hers, all the savings were hers.

Dad got nothing.

Dad's hand kept shaking as he signed.

"Eleanor, those pictures are fake... Let me investigate, just give me a week—"

"You don't have a week. Be out by tomorrow."

I knelt, tugging at her skirt.

"Mom, please don't go. Can you just let Dad prove it? I don't want you two to divorce—"

She suddenly shoved me.

I flew backward, hitting the back of my head on the corner of the coffee table.

I instinctively put out my right hand to brace myself.

My palm landed on a glass cup on the table, shattering it.

Shards of glass embedded themselves in my palm and between my fingers.

Blood gushed out instantly.

The pain made my vision go black.

Dad rushed over and held me.

"Eleanor! Call an ambulance quickly!"

Mom glanced at me.

A flicker of panic crossed her face.

But at that moment, Caleb Blackwood walked in through the door.

He saw the blood everywhere and covered his mouth.

"Eleanor, what happened... This is so scary..."

Mom's expression changed instantly.

She quickly went over, hugging him to comfort him.

"It's okay, it's nothing to do with you."

She didn't look at me again.

Caleb was an unknown actor back then.

He was handsome and spoke in a sweet, soft voice.

He said he grew up in an orphanage, with no parents.

He said my mom was the best person in the world to him.

He said if my mom didn't take care of him, he wouldn't want to live.

Mom believed it all.

She gave him all her tenderness.

My right hand underwent three surgeries.

The tendon damage was too severe; my fingers couldn't regain their flexibility.

From then on, I couldn't hold a paintbrush steadily.

My early admission to the top art school was revoked.