Chapter 4

Ophelia's POV 

"How long has he been in a coma?" I asked, not taking my eyes off him for a second.

"It's been a month already," Gwen replied.

"A month?" I muttered, masking the surprise in my voice. 

How can this be? Just yesterday I saw him, I didn't really pay much attention to him but he looked perfectly fine and healthy. So, how come she's saying he's been in a coma for a month? 

"Madame Eleanor, would be here to see you soon," Gwen said, breaking my train of thoughts. "She'll give you details about the wedding arrangements."

At the word 'wedding' reality came crashing down on me. My life is about to take a really drastic turn unless I somehow figure out how to pay off the debts my family is in.

"I need to have a word with my parents," I said, and turned to leave.

"Okay," Gwen said.

As I walked out of the room, I headed straight for the exit. My mind raced with different thoughts of what to do to raise money, and fast. Selling off my paintings seemed like the only option right now, even if it meant selling them for half the price, and money was better than no money.

As I opened the door to my gallery , my heart sank at the sight before me. My entire gallery  was thrashed, all my paintings ruined.

"No, no, no, no, no, no," I muttered as I frantically searched for any of my paintings that weren't damaged, but I couldn't find any. With tears blurring my vision I went over to the back of the gallery  to check for some of my finished and unfinished works, but they were all destroyed. 

With slumped shoulders, I slowly made my way back to the front of the gallery .

"How can this be?" I mumbled, my voice barely above a whisper as I slumped to the floor, in tears, feeling utterly defeated. I buried my head in my palms and sobbed uncontrollably.

Why was the universe against me? I've done everything right my whole life, I've always lived by the books, not breaking any rules, but here I was, being handed over the rotten side of whatever the world has to offer.

"That's what you deserve, nothing but pain," a voice said, accompanied with the clinking of heels.

I raised my head, and turned to the direction of the voice.

"Anita?" I asked in disbelief. "Did you do all this?"

She snickered. "Yes."

"Why?" I asked hoarsely, my voice choked with tears. "This was my life's work."

"Your life's work?" Anita scoffed. "Please, Ophelia, your paintings were nothing but garbage". 

"What?" I said in disbelief, my voice barely above a whisper. "How can you say that? You invested in my gallery, you said you saw so much potential in my work.."

"I've seen better paintings from preschooler's, Ophelia," she said maliciously. "What you have here…" she eyed the gallery. ".... Is just a sorry excuse for art."

"Why are you doing this, Anita?"  I said in a trembling voice. "What did I ever do to you?"

"You took what was mine," she said coldly.

I stared at her in confusion, not understanding a word she was saying. I had no idea where this was coming from, I've never taken anything that's her's.

"I thought you and Hudson would be done for good after you found out about our engagement,but instead he still wants you in his life!" She spat. "You're such a pest, and what do they do to pests? Crush them."

"What?" I asked in disbelief, my voice barely above a whisper. "This was all because of that jerk, Hudson?"

I couldn't believe a beautiful young lady like Anita would stoop this low over a jerk like Hudson. At least in my case I didn't know he was cheating, but she was fully aware.

I sighed, and  looked over at my destroyed paintings, and that was when I noticed that the destroyed paintings of the fictional wedding of Hudson and I were destroyed partially, my face was marred by deep scratches.

I scoffed, and stood on my feet. "I feel sorry for you, Anita," I said, shaking my head slowly. "I can't believe I was trying to save you from Hudson. You're just as despicable as he is."

"Excuse me?" Anita was taken aback.

"You heard me," I shot back. "You don't even have the courage to confront your fiance about his infidelity, so you come here to bully me?" I scoffed. "How pathetic."

"You have no idea what you're talking about!" Anita flared.

"You both deserve each other," I spat. "And you can both go to hell!"

Pow! Anita slapped me hard across my face.

"How–"

"Hello," a wispy voice came from the door, and an old man walked in. "Who's in charge here?" The old man asked, looking between me and Anita. "I'd like to invest in this gallery."

Anita mirrored my expression as we both stated at the man in disbelief. I parted my lips to say something but Anita beat me to it.

"Why would you want to invest in such garbage?" She asked disdainfully. "Take a good look around, old man, there's absolutely nothing left."

Hearing those words from Anita stung, my gallery was entirely destroyed and there was nothing left to invest in.

"A piece of advice, old man," Anita continued. "Don't bother wasting your time and money on–"

"It's none of your business what I choose to do with my money," the old man said firmly, leaving Anita in stunned silence as she stared at the old man in disbelief.

Hearing those words from the old man, brought back my confidence., and I turned to Anita.

"I think it's time you leave, Anita," I said, glaring at her.

"You haven't seen the last of me, Ophelia," Anita hissed, as she stormed out of the gallery, her heels clicking on the floor angrily.

"I'm so sorry about that," I apologised to the old man. 

"There's no need to apologise," he said dismissively. "People can be cruel for no just reason."

"Thank you," I said, offering him a chair to sit on. "So, Mr…"

"Andrew, Andrew Stone," the old man completed. "But you can just call me Andrew."

"Alright, Andrew," I said, offering him my best smile. "Mr. Andrew, are you serious about what you said earlier?" I asked, staring at him intently, looking for any sign of maliciousness but found none. "As you can already tell, my entire painting has been destroyed," I said sadly.

Mr. Andrew took a sip from his water again.

"Can you still make new paintings?" 

I was taken aback by his question, heaven knows this was the last response I was expecting.

"O–of course," I stuttered. 

"That settles it then," he said casually.

"Why are you doing this?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. 

"I believe in your talent," he responded tersely.

Even though his eyes showed no sign of maliciousness, my brain was finding it hard to accept. The past 24+hours have been a roller coaster of emotions, I can't handle this if it turns out to be a prank, or worse still a ploy from Hudson. I couldn't rule that out.

"Why are you doing this?" I asked again. "No one in their right senses would want to invest in a destroyed gallery."

"You're right," he said, a smile gracing his lips. "I'm here on behalf of Dominic Blackwood."

"Wh–"