Chloe leaned against his chest, her eyes flicking over to me as she purred,

"Julian, don't be like this. Elena will get the wrong idea."

He shot a warning look at me. "You've always been so understanding, Elena. Right?"

"Chloe and I are at a critical stage in our creation. It's only natural for me to give her extra attention."

I nodded numbly, just wanting to get out of there.

I was once a rising star at the Pratt Institute.

To fully support Julian's work, I had put down my own paintbrushes.

At his first solo exhibition, Julian had declared in front of the media that I was his one and only muse, that with me by his side, he would never need another woman.

But now, for the sake of his art-at-all-costs philosophy, he was forcing me to compromise, again and again.

I couldn't stand to watch another second of their cloying artist-muse performance, so I cut in coolly.

"I'm tired. You two should get some rest."

Julian gave me an approving smile and helped Chloe out of the room.

Soon, low whispers and the rustle of clothing drifted from the studio.

Like countless nights before, the sounds frayed my nerves, leaving me sleepless.

"Julian, you should still try to talk to Elena tomorrow. I don't want to be the reason your relationship is ruined."

Chloe's tone was deceptively considerate.

Julian, his voice thick with desire, replied, "Don't worry about her. She knows her place."

The next morning, I was jolted awake by the sound of my son, Leo, crying.

I rushed out of the bedroom barefoot, only to see my son's small form kneeling in the center of the studio.

The screen of his iPad was shattered, and all the drawings he had stored on it were gone.

My heart clenched, so tight I could barely breathe. I ran over and held him tight.

"Leo, who did this?"

The moment I spoke, Chloe's aggrieved voice rang out.

"Elena, you need to get your son under control. He just tried to destroy my portrait!"

"If I hadn't noticed just in time, Julian's most important piece would have been ruined."

I was trembling with rage. "You're lying! Leo loves his art. He would never destroy a painting."

Julian was carefully inspecting the half-finished portrait, his eyes filled with lingering fear.

"Elena, what's with all the yelling? Chloe is the muse. She can't be disturbed by this nonsense."

"If our son is misbehaving, that's a failure on your part as a mother!"

He looked at me as if I were the one being unreasonable.

Holding my still-sobbing son, I endured the searing pain in my chest and retorted.

"Check the security cameras in the house! See who's really lying!"

"Ask your precious muse if Leo ever even touched her painting!"

Julian froze, his eyes instinctively darting to the security camera in the corner. He hesitated.

A flash of panic crossed Chloe's eyes before her body went limp. She leaned against him and said weakly,

"Julian, my head is starting to hurt again. All this commotion... I can feel my inspiration slipping away. I'm so scared..."

Panic flashed across Julian's face. He scooped Chloe into his arms, his voice strained with anxiety.

"Your inspiration is fading? Was it because of them? I'll take you back to your room to rest right now."

Before leaving, Julian cast a dark look at my son and me.

"If you two won't learn to respect my art, I'll have to teach you a lesson!"

"Since you care so much about Leo, you can take his punishment. Write a sincere letter of apology to Chloe."

With that, he turned and left with Chloe in his arms, ordering his assistant to watch us before he went.

My son's eyes were filled with fear and confusion.

He couldn't understand why his father had become such a stranger.

Guarded in the studio by his assistant, I comforted my son.

Looking up at the family photo of the three of us on the wall, I felt nothing but irony.

This home no longer had room for me and my son.

I refused to write that letter, and the stalemate lasted until nightfall.

When Julian emerged from the room, there wasn't a trace of guilt on his face.

Instead, he accused my son and me of being inconsiderate and harming his career.

To maintain his image as a good father and husband, he offered to take us to a charity gala.

Seeing the hopeful look in my son's eyes, I agreed.

It was only when we arrived at the banquet hall that I understood Julian's true reason for bringing me: he expected me to wait on Chloe hand and foot.

"Elena, go get me a glass of champagne. Less ice."

"Elena, the caviar over there looks divine. Bring me a plate."

She ordered me around nonstop, while Julian, oblivious, mingled and toasted with other guests.

The occasional glance he threw my way was a clear warning to behave myself.

Suddenly, Chloe said, "Elena, I just had a stroke of inspiration. Go to my car and get my sketchbook."

But when I returned to the banquet hall, I couldn't find my son, Leo.

It wasn't until I saw what was happening in the third-floor lounge area that I began to tremble with rage.

Leo was surrounded and being bullied by a clique of Instagram models.

One of them snatched his iPad and sneered.

"Hey kid, you call these scribbles paintings? Why don't you bark like a dog for us? If you do it well, we'll give your iPad back."

My son was being shoved back and forth, his face pale with fright.

Seeing red, I charged forward, shoved them all aside, and shielded my son behind me.

"Are you out of your minds? A group of adults ganging up on a little kid!"

Chloe's voice cut in at that moment. "Elena, how can you say that?"

"My friends just thought Leo was cute and wanted to play with him. You're overreacting."

My eyes burned with fury. "Chloe, did you put them up to this!"

But Julian just pressed his temples impatiently.

"That's enough, Elena! Making a scene over nothing. Apologize to Chloe's friends. Now!"

It was our son who had been humiliated, yet he was still defending Chloe and her so-called friends.