He Forced Me to Paint Until My Last Breath

Regina's POV

After being diagnosed with a terminal illness, I made the decision to finish one final painting—my last masterpiece—before quietly disappearing from the art world.

But on the very night my piece was released, I was accused of plagiarism.

My stepbrother presented my draft—the one I’d revised countless times—as proof that I had stolen the work from his female junior, a fellow art student.

Trolls swarmed me online. Reporters cornered me in public. And through it all, he stood by my side—not to protect me, but to force me to publicly apologize and admit to something I didn’t do.

When I was too weak to even stand straight, he locked me in a basement and demanded I keep painting, just so his beloved junior could have more of my work to use.

Eventually, I broke. My body and mind were shutting down. In a daze, I begged him for help.

But he didn’t even look at me. He just stood there, calmly counting my finished pieces.

“Why is the quality slipping? Did you forget everything I taught you?” His voice was cold. “Regina, don’t make me disappointed in you.”

Then, he stopped in front of my latest painting.

“This one rose,” he said, “is the only one that’s barely passable.”

The crimson rose on the canvas was still wet. I had painted it using my own freshly spilled blood.

My voice was barely audible as I pleaded, “Please… let me go. I can’t take this anymore.”

But he just stared at me with icy eyes.

“You’ve always faked illness to get sympathy. I’m not falling for it.”

What he didn’t know—what he refused to believe—was that this time, I wasn’t pretending. I was really dying.

——

"You know,” he said casually, “to make it big in any industry, talent alone isn’t enough. You need a story that grabs attention. Something dramatic.”

“Anyway, since you’re quitting, why not do me one last favor?" he asked, changing the topic. "Help Margot make her debut by passing your legacy on to her. Wouldn’t that be a nice gesture?”

Darell Reynolds lounged on the sofa, staring straight into my eyes with smug satisfaction.

The so-called “evidence” he used to destroy me was scattered across the floor. If he’d actually bothered to look closely, he’d have seen that every stroke—every color—was filled with pieces of him.

My hands trembled as I demanded, “You knew how much this painting meant to me. After everything, is my reputation just a stepping stone for her career?”

His gaze didn’t waver. “Is it really that hard to do this one little thing for me? You already know I like her.”

His words cut deep, even though his tone was soft. And for a second, I remembered how, all those years ago, he used to look at me the same way as he whispered, “Don’t be afraid. I’ll protect you. I promise.”

I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out.

“It’s settled,” he said. “I’ve already booked your flight back home. Once the buzz around Margot dies down, I’ll pay to bury the scandal. It won’t affect your peaceful little retirement.”

“You’ve always wanted to live a quiet, carefree life, right? Just think of this as paying me back. After this, I won’t bother you again.”

After saying that, he walked past me and shut the door with a heavy thud.

I collapsed on the floor, too weak to stay upright.

Outside, Margot Hodges’s sweet voice rang through the hallway. “Darell, do you think Regina’s really that upset? Maybe I should go apologize. I don’t mind if she yells at me or hits me.”

Darell replied, his voice filled with affection. “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll take care of everything for you.”

Their voices faded as the pain in my head suddenly spiked. I curled up on the floor, clutching my skull, struggling just to breathe.

He knew what that painting meant to me.

I had spent three long months pouring my soul into it, digging through ten years of memories with him, capturing every little detail that once connected us. I named it "In the Corner of My Eye."

In the shadows of the painting, I had hidden our silhouettes—his and mine—facing away from the world.

He had painted for over a decade. He should have seen it.

My phone buzzed endlessly with news alerts.

At the top of every feed, one headline stood out in bold.