Page 8 of The Devil's Canvas

"Arabella and you, Ophelia," he corrects, his tone sharpening.

Here we go. Full names. No shortening. No warmth. Cassius Arden speaks like every word is a signed contract, like everything is already decided before I have a chance to react.

I press the phone tighter to my ear, already regretting answering.

“Melanie built something of herself. A career, a future, a life. You, on the other hand? Wasting away in that apartment, painting things no one cares about. She knows how to uphold this family’s name. I wish I could say the same about you."

The words hit like cold steel. Blunt. Precise. Cutting.

I swallow, but I don’t react, don’t bite, don’t snap back. I just stare at my own reflection in the window.

"I don’t expect you to contribute much, but at the very least, you will be there. Looking presentable. Acting appropriately."

"So that’s why you called," I mutter. "To make sure I show up and behave?"

"This wedding is not about you, Ophelia," he says, unimpressed. "Try not to make it difficult."

I clench my jaw. I’m well aware that nothing has been about me, nothing that involves him, anyway.

"You are an Arden. That means something. It is about time you started acting like it." The final blow comes effortlessly, like it means nothing."Melanie is everything this family needs. You are just a reminder of past mistakes."

The line clicks dead.

No goodbye. No room for response.

Just silence.

I lower the phone, staring at the screen, his name still glowing, his words pressing into my skull like an imprint I can’t erase.

I don’t throw it. I don’t scream. I don’t cry.

But my hand is shaking.

I squeeze the phone tighter, pressing it into my palm until the edges bite into my skin, sharp and unyielding. Something solid to anchor myself to.

A mistake. That’s all I am to him. A lingering reminder of something he should have erased.

And yet—I’m still going. Because he told me to.

I don’t waste any time in calling Bella. If I have to deal with Melanie, so does she.

The phone barely rings once before she answers. "Hey, Lia!" Bella’s voice is bright, easy, like she was expecting my call.

I lean back against the wall, exhaling. For the first time since Cassius called, I don’t feel like I’m bracing for impact.

"Hi, Bella. Has Dad called you yet?" I ask, already knowing the answer.

"Not yet, but I’m assuming he called you," she says.

"Yup. To talk about Melanie’s wedding."

Bella groans dramatically. "Ah. Yes. The event of the year for the media’s prince and princess." Her voice turns mockingly haughty, like some over-the-top reporter announcing breaking news.

I laugh. Not because it’s funny. But because she’s right.

"Dom isn’t a bad guy though," Bella adds, more thoughtful now.

"No, he’s not," I admit. "But he doesn’t know the real Melanie."

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