work. It was taking place via a video call, a small mercy, but my hands were still slick with sweat. I was in

king woman on my screen, "your portfolio i

hope ignite

ssion hardening, "a serious allegati

old. I knew wh

ncial scandal at your previous institution. A s

e popped up on the video call. Tiffany Hayes. She h

y said, her voice cloying and sweet.

ocked. "Who is this? Thi

camera. "Lily claims to be from a 'modest background.' The truth is, her family is drowning in debt. This is a

wned her small house outright. But the document l

ce shaking with rage. "My mother' s hous

rclass in feigned disappointment. "Lily,

was spent on lavish trips, designer clothes, parties! It was Mark and

aptop was shattered.

e talented with a paintbrush, Lily. I' m sure you' re just as talented with Photoshop." She turned her attention back to the intervie

as being tried and convicted in a kangaroo court, with a

of pure, helpless fury. I wanted to reach through the screen

ven heard anyone approach. It was Mark. He must have followe

' t looking at the screen. He was looking at me.

s wild. He wasn't after me. He

ney, you can' t have you

y mounted pages scattered across the floor. He stomped on them, grinding his heel

the bottle of

reamed, scrambling

, viscous ink poured out, cascading over my drawings, my paintings, my ticket to Kensington. It soake

r. A sharp, tearing sound filled the room. It was the sound of my heart breaking.

was the horrified face of the interviewer from Kensington. Ma

had also destroyed a