Before Maisie married Daniel, he told her that his ex-wife had died. But one evening, Maisie stumbles upon Laura’s active Facebook profile. One thing leads to another and Laura leaks information that shatters Maisie’s entire life. She’s left wanting to confront Daniel and take him for everything he has.
The art world—that’s where I first met Daniel. I was a new and upcoming artist who was only entering the gallery and exhibition world now.
I didn’t know where to begin navigating such a world.
And then I met Daniel—the owner of a popular gallery that focused on artists that were new to the scene
“I’m Daniel,” he said, introducing himself when I walked into the gallery one afternoon.
“Maisie,” I said, taken by his looks and the charm that oozed from him.
After an hour of me explaining my art and concepts to Daniel, he asked me out to dinner.
“Just so that we can talk more,” he said. “But I think your art will find a home here, at my gallery.”
A few weeks after our initial meeting, Daniel set up the perfect opening night for me.
“It’s your debut into this world, Maisie,” he said, taking my hand and making his intentions over.
I remember looking at the paint on my sneakers and under my nails, and wondering what on earth he saw in me.
But when Daniel looked at me, I felt seen. My art felt seen, and I found that I always had inspiration to paint.
A year later, Daniel proposed to me in the gallery, while I was painting in one of the back rooms.
“You’re everything I’ve ever wanted,” he said. “This is it, Maisie.”
Of course, I wanted what he wanted. I wanted the life that Daniel had told me about—traveling to museums around the world, visiting exhibitions, and learning everything I could about art history.
He created a world that I wanted to live in. A world that I wanted to exist in—with him.
One evening, a few weeks before we got married, Daniel and I were sitting in my living room. He confessed to being married before.
“Maisie,” he said slowly. “I was married before; it wasn’t for long.”
“Then what happened?” I asked, pouring us some wine. For some reason, I felt that the story had to be heavy if Daniel hadn’t mentioned it for so long.
“She died,” he said, his eyes fixed on the carpet.
“Oh, Daniel,” I said, reaching out to touch him. Everything in me screamed out to comfort him.
“I’m so sorry,” I said.
He sat back, holding the glass of wine, and told me about Laura, his first wife.
“She just got sick, you know?” he said. “And then her body couldn’t take it anymore. She was in and out of the hospital, too. One day, it was all over.”
I sat across from Daniel; I didn’t know what to say or do. So, I just sat in silence.
We got married shortly after, and Daniel continued to represent me and my art.
When we had my second show at the gallery, Daniel spoke eloquently about supporting emerging talents and securing their works’ financial appreciation.
That is why I trusted him completely when he suggested handling my finances too, citing his expertise in investments within the art market.
Our marriage, much like a well-curated exhibition, was meticulously arranged to showcase a perfect partnership.
Little did I know that the illusion was about to crumble.
Daniel had an exhibit for the evening, leaving me to a welcome solitude.
I sat drinking my glass of wine as I scrolled through Facebook, looking at the recommended friend suggestions—something that I always found myself doing absentmindedly.
There, I stumbled upon his late wife’s active Facebook profile. That flicker of digital activity—”Online Now”—sent a cold wave of doubt crashing over me. Compelled by a mix of fear and curiosity, I messaged her, half expecting no reply.
She was, as I had been told, dead.
But her response was immediate and terrifying:
Maisie, I’ve been watching you. You need to leave Daniel. Protect your assets and run.
The absurdity of receiving such a warning from someone I believed to be dead set my world spinning.