Chapter One: The Betrayal

Zara's POV

"Five thousand dollars," the auctioneer called, his voice booming across the opulent hall.

A woman in black sleek gown raised her paddle. ""Ten thousand dollars."

Then another bidder quickly followed, her voice cutting through the silence. "Twenty thousand dollars."

The crowd hushed, holding their breath as the auctioneer glance around . "Do I hear anymore.? Two thousand dollars for the exquisite Icy Lovers. Going once. Going twice. He let the silence hang, a master of suspense. Then, with finality. "Icy Lovers, Sold for twenty thousand dollars."

A round of applause rippled through the room. The Icy Lovers displayed proudly on the towering screen behind him.

In the shadows, my trembling hands clutch so tightly to a champagne flute. I had no intention of drinking it- my hands needed something to anchor them, to steady the storm brewing inside me.

The paintings on display were mine-every stroke -every details bore the imprint of my soul but the name imprinted beneath, the name admired by all wasn't mine. It could never be mine.

My heart raced as I stared at the Ethereal blossoms, the masterpiece of the exhibition. It sat under the halo of perfect painting, commanding the admiration of the glittering crowd. No one knew the truth, the masterpiece wasn't some long lost relic; it was a fake. It was my prison.

"Zara."

Her voice cut through the haze. I flinched, my eyes darting to where Grace stood across the room. Forcing a smile that didn't reach her eyes, but it didn't have to. Her gaze alone was a command. I placed my glass on a nearby tray and stepped forward, wishing the polished floor can open up and swallow me alive.

Grace fingers closed around my arms in a grip that was as delicate as it was suffocating. "Smile," she said between gritted teeth, her face a perfect mask for the crowd. "You look like you're mourning someone."

I forced my lips into a curve, though it felt more like a grimace. "Maybe I am."

Her nails digging deep into my skin. "Don't start Zara. Especially not now, when we're on the brink of breaking into the international market."

With well practiced elegance, she led me towards a group of elite women. "This is my daughter," Grace cooled, her tone sickeningly sweet. She looked up at me with a maternal smile, so well rehearsed that it seemed genuine.

One of the women arched a brow. "Isn't she your adopted daughter?" She asked, her tone condescending.

Grace's laugh was light and airy, a sign designed to disarm. "Adopted or not, she's still my daughter," she said, her hands squeezing my arm for emphasis.

I stayed silent, My jaw tightened as the other women nodded in agreement, compliments flowing freely.

"Grace is so generous," another woman chimed in. "You've given her such a good life."

The compliments gritted on my nerves, their falseness suffocating. I quickly excused myself and retreated back to the comforting shadows. From the hiding spot, I watched Grace ascend the stage.

"Ladies and gentlemen," she began, her voice smooth as silk. "Tonight, we celebrate the brilliance of arts and the legacy of the great masters." She gestured towards the Ethereal blossoms, her movements, almost fluid and regal. "This is an opportunity to own a piece of history."

The applause swelled, but I could barely registered it over the pounding in my ears. I gripped the champagne flute tighter this time, imagining it shattering in my hands.

Two hours. Just two more hours, I could escape to my studio, the only place that looked as if the world isn't collapsing on me.

"Zara."

The Voice startled me. I turned to see Cassandra, my younger sister , her warm smile , a stark contrast to Grace's cold, polished one. She was curled up with a man. He had sharp features, piercing eyes, and an effortless charm that made him impossible to ignore.

"This is my friend, Evander," she said, her tone light and casual. Then, with a hint of pride, she added, "The CEO of Blackwood Construction."

Evander extends his hand, his eyes locked into mine for a moment. "Nice to meet you," he said, his tone easy and casual.

Before I could respond, Cassandra grinned. "Sis, keep him company. I'll be back."

She disappeared into the crowd, leaving me with Evander. An awkward silence hung between us before he broke it.

"You know," he said , his voice low. "You don't have to try so hard."

I blinked, startled. "What?"

His gaze didn't waver. "You don't have to do anything illegal to be accepted by them."

My breath caught. Before I could respond, Cassandra returned, her cheerful presence breaking the tension. "I'm back," she said, her arms looping through his. "Let's go."

They left together. His words lingered, it's weight pressing down on me. Did he know the truth behind the paintings? That they are counterfeit?

I don't have the time to dwell on it as three police men burst into the hall.

"Counterfeit," the word echoed through the gallery like a gunshot.

"These paintings are forgery," The client's face burned as he waved a document in the air, around him other guests murmured in shock and disbelief, their gaze darting towards grace.

Grace stepped forward calm and compose. But her smile was like a blade aimed directly at my heart. "Zara," she called , her voice smooth, soothing. "Care to explain?" She asked, her word sharp enough to pierce into my soul.

The room turned to me, their eyes heavy with judgement. I couldn't breathe.

My world titled and in that moment - I was the sacrifice she had chosen to save herself.

I staggered backward. The police men stepped closer to me, their gaze piercing into mine, but before they could reach me, I turned around and ran , my heels clicking frantically against the marbles floor.

I needed Alessandro. He knew the truth. He could help me. But when I reached, the half opened door of the smaller hall, his voice kept me frozen.

"I don't love her," Alessandro's voice cut through the air, cold and indifferent. "You're the one I have always wanted."

Then Cassandra's voice came, cold and condescending. "You don't think I'm blind like Zara, right? That's so foolish not to see that her husband love her sister. You married her to get to me. You both are pathetic."

Tears welled up in my eyes as I watched the man I had loved for two years, supported his every failed business deal, believed in him even when it was difficult betray me at every word.

Alessandro's voice came again, softer. "I had no choice. It was the only way to stay closer to you."

I wanted to move, to leave but my foot felt rooted to the spot. Each word chipped at me until there was nothing left. Alessandro's gaze shifted locking into mine. His expression was indifferent, no regret, no shame. Cassandra followed his eyes and her disgust filled gaze landed on me.

She approached the door and halted before me. "You should talk to your husband to get over me," she said, her heels hitting the floor sharply as she left.

When I finally stepped inside, Alessandro didn't look away. He simply handed me a document.

"Sign it," he said coolly. "It's a divorce agreement."