Page 7 of The Devil's Canvas

My father had an affair. My mother had me. My stepmother had Melanie.

Two years later, she had Arabella.

Melanie and I? We aren’t close. We never were. But Bella? She’s my person. Two peas in a pod. She just moved out, and she’s out there doing something good, being a social worker, changing lives.

And Melanie?

Melanie was mediocre at best. She started acting when she was ten, and it was obvious from the start. No emotions. No depth. No connection to anything. She could memorize lines, but there was nothing behind them.

Until she was sixteen.

That’s when it changed. That’s when she suddenly found her way—when she gained emotional intelligence, empathy, depth.

Right around the time I started losing mine.

If karma exists, I got the shit end of the stick.

And maybe it’s nothing. Maybe it’s just a coincidence.

But something about it bothers me.

Still, it’s impossible. She couldn’t have taken my emotions, my ability to express them. That’s not how the world works.

My phone rings, startling me.

No one ever really calls me. Not like I’d answer anyway. I don’t have a whole lot to talk about.

I push aside a half-dried canvas and feel something cold beneath my fingertips.

"Found it," I exclaim, lifting my phone into the air.

I glance at the screen and my stomach twists.

Cassius Arden.

I groan, thumb hovering over the decline button. I don’t want to answer. But ignoring him never makes anything better.

I exhale sharply and swipe to accept.

"Hello, Father," I say, voice even. Detached.

"Ophelia," he replies, his voice smooth, impassive.

I don’t say anything else.

There’s no point. I know how this goes. It doesn’t matter what I say—he’ll talk over it, dismiss it, ignore it entirely.

So I wait.

"You need to call your sister," he says. "She needs you and Arabella to help her. We can’t trust anyone else."

Of course.We. Not ‘Melanie needs you.’ Not ‘This is important to your sister.’We.

Because none of this has never been about Melanie. It’s about him.

I exhale slowly. Controlled.

"Bella would love to assist," I say, pushing it onto someone who actually cares.

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