The Wife He Never Met, The Artist He Can't Forget

Synopsis

Ethan Blackwood had never seen me. For three years, he was off overseas expanding the family business, while I was stuck at the Blackwood residence in Riverside, playing the dutiful daughter-in-law. He couldn't be bothered to call during the holidays. The Blackwood family talked about me like I was some worn-out piece of furniture. So when Ethan's assistant showed up at the end of the dirt driveway in a crisp suit, clutching a divorce agreement, I was out in the yard, feeding the chickens. His polished shoes sank into the mud, and he looked like he'd smelled something foul. "Mrs. Blackwood, this is Mr. Blackwood's decision. The compensation terms are on the third page. Please take a look." He set the folder down on the stone table and stepped back, like I was contagious. I wiped the mud off my hands and pulled out the agreement. The compensation was 10 million dollars. The conditions were simple. I had to move out of the Blackwood residence immediately, never show up anywhere using the Blackwood name, and never contact any of them again. It was all cold and quick, like firing the help. I flipped to the last page. Ethan's signature was already there, the ink so heavy it had bled through to the other side. "Got a pen?" I asked. The assistant paused, probably not expecting me to agree so quickly. He pulled a pen from his breast pocket and handed it over. I signed my name. My handwriting wasn't exactly pretty, but at least it was steady.