Ryan’s gaze lingered on the painting, then on me. For a fleeting second, his eyes wavered, perhaps recalling his promise.
But seconds later, he raised his paddle firmly. “Two hundred thousand.”
A fragile hope flickered in my heart—maybe he hadn’t forgotten.
But then, taking the painting from the staff, Ryan turned and shoved it into Sophia’s arms. “Here, Sophia. It’s yours.”
Sophia’s face lit up. Hugging the canvas, she suddenly smirked at me. In front of everyone, she stumbled against me, gripped both edges of the painting, and ripped it in two.
The sound tore through me.
“Oh no,” she feigned panic, tears brimming. “Evelyn, I didn’t mean to!”
“Sophia!” I lunged, but Ryan yanked me back, his grip bruising my wrist. His eyes burned with anger. “Enough! It’s just a painting! If it’s ruined, I’ll buy another! Stop scaring Sophia!”
“That was my father’s last work! I sold it to save you!” My tears splashed onto his hand. “You promised me—you said you’d bring it back!”
“I’ve made countless promises. How could I remember them all?” Ryan flung me aside, and I stumbled into a display stand. A vase toppled, shattering, shards slicing my ankle.