A few days later, news broke that Austin's company had collapsed.
He was arrested shortly after, leaving me to deal with the wreckage.
At first, I wasn't worried. Even if the Vance family fell, I still had my parents.
I called them immediately.
Both numbers had been disconnected.
Panic clawed at my throat.
I rushed home, only to have Graham meet me at the door, his face ashen.
The day they heard about Austin's arrest, my parents had raced back to help. A landslide caught their car on the mountain road.
Neither survived.
In a single night, my world collapsed.
No husband. No parents. No one left to lean on.
I sold everything I owned and moved into a damp basement, hiding from the debt collectors who'd bought up Austin's gambling IOUs.
Sleep became impossible. I'd lie awake, flinching at every sound.
Eventually, they found me.
A group of men kicked down my door, armed with metal pipes.
They shattered two of my ribs. Broke my wrist so badly I could never hold a brush again.
It took three years to accept my fate.
I gave up everything—my art, my pride, my dreams—just to survive.
And now I was being told it was all a lie.