He Said I Was Nothing Without Him And I Signed For Everything Chapter 01

The eighteenth time Cassian Veyne brought a new woman home and ordered me to paint them tangled together in his bed, everyone thought I would finally snap.

I didn’t.

I listened to their low laughter and the shameless sounds drifting through the room, then finished the entire painting without a change in my expression.

Cassian’s longtime friend, Maddox Vale laughed.

“Cassian, your wife has nerves of steel. She’s not even throwing a drink at you?”

Cassian slowly buttoned his shirt and gave a quiet scoff.

“Would she dare?”

“The Sallow family is gone. I paid off her debts. Even her mother’s studio is under my name.”

“Without me, she’s nothing.”

I set down my brush and gave the usual price.

“Custom bedroom portrait. Three million.”

Cassian slid a check across the table.

On top of it was a stack of divorce papers.

“Isla’s sensitive,” he said. “She doesn’t like being treated like a secret.”

“So make room for her.”

“Once she feels secure, I’ll still leave you a place as my mistress.”

The whole room waited for me to fall apart.

Instead, I picked up the pen and signed my name.

The smile on Cassian’s face faded.

“You’re serious?”

I nodded.

“I’m serious.”

“Cassian Veyne, you and her deserve each other.”

I was done playing along with his three-year revenge act.

 

Cassian’s fingers rested on the divorce papers for a long time.

He looked up at me as if he had only just realized I wasn’t bluffing.

After a moment, his mouth twisted.

“Fine.”

“But remember this. You don’t take a single thing from Tallowmere Estate.”

“Fine.”

I had never planned to take anything from this place anyway.

For three years, Tallowmere had been less a home than a cage. The designer bags, the jewelry, even the title of Mrs. Veyne had never felt like gifts.

They were just prettier chains.

My calm clearly irritated Cassian. He was about to say something when Maddox laughed from the side.

“Come on, Cassian. You don’t see it? Isla cries, you soften. Now your wife signs the papers and plays untouchable, waiting for you to chase her.”

The faint complexity in Cassian’s eyes vanished.

He looked down at me.

“Maren Sallow, isn’t it a little late to play this game?”

“Isla is young. When she acts spoiled, it’s cute.”

“When you threaten me with divorce, it’s just pathetic.”

He gripped my chin and forced my face up.

“You still think you’re the Sallow heiress?”

“If you leave me, what are you going to live on?”

I didn’t struggle. I only said calmly, “I can paint.”

“Paint?”

He laughed as if I’d told a joke.

“Everyone in this city’s elite circles knows you’re my woman. Once I’m done with you, who would dare buy your work?”

I had heard it all before.

Cassian hated me for leaving him when he had nothing. He hated me for saying I didn’t want to marry a man with no future.

So after he became powerful, he married me.

Then he spent three years grinding me into the dirt.

I didn’t want to explain anything anymore. I just looked at him.

“I signed.”

“Give me the key to my mother’s studio. And the deed.”

“You want the key?” Cassian said. “Fine. Isla wants a maternity portrait.”

“Paint it until she’s satisfied, and I’ll give the key back.”

The room went still.

Isla Wrenne leaned against Cassian’s chest, her lips curving softly.

“Cassian, don’t make it hard for her. Maren just signed the divorce papers.”

Cassian steadied her with one hand at the small of her back.

“You’re carrying a baby. Don’t worry about this.”

At the word baby, my hand paused.

Cassian noticed. He lowered his head and gave a soft laugh.

“Surprised?”

“Isla isn’t like you.”

“She can give me a family.”

“You couldn’t even do that.”

He led Isla to the main sofa and lifted his chin.

“Get started.”

The staff turned up the lights.

Isla leaned against Cassian’s side, one hand resting on her stomach, a small smile on her lips.

And I stood before the easel, forced to crown her with my own hands.

The brush moved across the canvas. For a while, the only sound in the living room was the faint scrape of bristles against fabric.

Someone laughed under his breath.

“Having the ex-wife paint the new girl’s maternity portrait? Cassian, that’s brutal.”

“If I were Maren, I wouldn’t even be able to hold the brush.”

I acted as if I hadn’t heard.

Then Cassian ordered a maid to bring in a painting covered with a white cloth.

The moment the cloth was pulled away, my pupils tightened.

It was my mother’s final self-portrait. The last painting she had made before she died.

Cassian handed me a palette knife. His tone was careless.

“Isla likes the composition.”

“Change the face to hers.”

The room fell silent.

Then someone gave a low laugh.

“Damn, Cassian. That’s crueler than the divorce.”

“Making Maren paint her mother into Isla? No one could survive that.”

Isla bit her lip gently.

“Cassian, don’t. Maren will hate me.”

Cassian lowered his head and smoothed her hair.

“She won’t dare.”

Then he looked at me, his eyes cold.

“Maren, finish it. Then I’ll give you the key.”

I looked at my mother’s gentle face in the painting, and something thick lodged in my throat.

It was the last thing she had left me.

And Cassian wanted me to destroy it with my own hands.

I took a breath and accepted the palette knife.

The first stroke came down, covering half my mother’s face in white paint.

Stroke by stroke, I erased her eyes, her nose, the corner of her mouth.

Then I painted Isla’s face over hers.

When I finished, I set down the brush.

“Mr. Veyne, are you satisfied?”

Cassian stared at me. Something dark churned in his eyes, something I could no longer understand.

A few seconds later, he took a manila envelope from his assistant and hurled it at me.

The sharp edge scraped across my cheek before it hit the floor.

The keys and documents scattered everywhere.

“Take them and get out.”

His voice was low and cold.

“I’d love to see what price a woman thrown out by the Veyne family can still sell herself for.”

I crouched down, picked up the papers one by one, and turned toward the door.

Behind me, Cassian’s voice rang out again.

“Maren Sallow.”

“If you walk out that door today, don’t come crawling back. I won’t take you.”

I smiled faintly.

“I won’t.”

This time, I would not look back.

I was taking my mother’s studio and leaving the cage that had held me for three years.