Page 8 of Married to My Sis’s Bratva Fiancé

"I just paint," I whispered. "I don't know what I do wrong."

"Elena, sometimes I honestly admire how pure and patient you are." Isabella's gaze darkened. "So pure. So patient it is disgusting."

I didn't answer. I knew what she meant. Pure meant stupid. Patient meant weak. I'd never been as sharp as her, never as bold. In everyone's eyes, I'd always been the disappointment.

We'd gone on too long. People were starting to glance our way, annoyed—this was a gallery, not a street fight.

"You're going to miss your flight," I said at last. "Stop wasting time on me."

I turned away and kept wiping down my frames, pretending she wasn't there. She'd get bored and leave. I told myself that like a prayer.

This was my first invitation to a real show. I couldn't blow it. I'd dragged myself here hungover and sore as hell, not to make a scene. And I couldn't let her see me crack again. That only made her digs sharper.

"Don't shoo me off." Her voice softened—and it made my blood run colder. "You had a pretty good time last night, didn't you? You and Kiryan."

My heart seized. A hard buzz filled my skull. Last night—how did she know?

"That was an accident!" I spun around to explain, and nearly collided with her.

She was less than an inch from me. I could see her thick lashes, her narrow eyes—and that little spark of smug triumph in them.

A sick feeling rolled through me. If she'd found out her fiancé betrayed her, she should've been furious. Destroyed. Instead she looked... amused. Like everything had gone exactly the way she'd wanted.

"Accident or not, I don't care what happened between you two." Like she'd read my thoughts, she tilted her head. "I don't love Kiryan."

I couldn't even name the expression on her face. She smiled, and it still made my spine go cold.

"Getting engaged to Kiryan has been partly for Dad. Marrying into the Morozov family is the kind of thing he'd brag about until he dies." She let out a sharp breath through her nose. "But mostly? It's because he's the man you want."

"Because you like him, I want him. I want to watch you hurt. It's fun."

Her words rang in my ears, loud and relentless, and dizziness spread through me like a tide.

So it had all been planned. She'd stolen the man I loved, rubbed it in with every touch, every kiss, just to make me jealous and sick and broken—then sat back and savored it. And it had worked. I was choking on my own pain, and she was standing there enjoying the show.

"Enough!" I didn't know how that sound came out of me—sharp, raw, weaponized. Even Isabella paused.

"So you finally got mad?" Her voice turned bright, playful. The teasing grin slid back onto her face. "I honestly didn't think you had it in you. I dated Kiryan right in front of you, kissed him in front of you. I even made you deliver condoms for us, and you never looked like this."

The pulse pounding at my temples hurt. Rage kept stabbing at every weak spot in my will.

"You're insane." I grabbed her arm.

"I am." She didn't even flinch. "But if you have time to judge anyone, you should worry about what is coming for you."

"What the hell do you want?" My grip tightened, unease crawling up my throat.

"You should thank me. I am going to make your wish come true." She smiled coldly, looking at me like she was handing out charity.

Before I could react, she yanked free. At the same time, a security guy a few steps away strode over fast, his big body cutting between us.

"Say it clearly!" I tried to step around him, still chasing answers. "You—"

His arm snapped out, blocking my chest. I moved left—he moved left. I tried to slip the other way—he sealed it off like a wall.

Isabella didn't look back. She put on her sunglasses like she had all the time in the world, wrapped her hand around the suitcase handle, and walked toward the exit. Only after she disappeared at the far end of the hall did the guard finally drop his arm.

I stood there staring after her, my mind shredded.