Chapter 1

Right after summer break started, my husband, Julian—an internationally renowned sculptor—suddenly bailed on me. He claimed a surge of inspiration meant he needed to lock himself away in his studio to create, and therefore, couldn't attend my art exhibition in Paris.

But that very afternoon, I saw Julian post a photo on SnapChat for the first time ever.

In the picture, his usual young nude model, Chloe, was straddling something, her eyes hazy, dazed.

The shot was taken from below, looking up, incredibly intimate, leaving too much to the imagination...

The caption read: "He took this."

I scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping me, and commented: "Oh, classic artist, right? So much 'aesthetic.'"

Immediately, the buyers' collection SnapChat group exploded. Friends among the collectors started screenshotting and reposting, placing bets on when I'd finally lose it.

When Julian called, he was still gasping for breath, as if he'd just finished a strenuous workout:

"What's with your passive-aggressive comments? Chloe is my muse, we're making art!"

"Stop thinking such dirty things all the time! This is art! But then again, a mediocre painter like you wouldn't understand art."

"Go apologize to Chloe right now. I'll attend your next exhibition with you."

Next time?

I sneered and hung up. After this exhibition, the waiting period for my divorce would be over.