Even after Her Death by Rita Bond

Billionaire Is 11

The moment I realized it, rage flooded my chest.

People always say that after death, you turn into a vengeful spirit, seeking revenge. But clearly, that's just a myth. It felt like I was trapped inside an invisible barrier, unable to do anything. Even with my enemy right in front of me, I couldn't touch her!

I could only watch as she claimed all my hard work, day after day, using it to win effortless praise from everyone.

Those paintings were never meant to earn praise. They were created to heal myself.

For the past two years, thanks to Anna, my emotions had been in a downward spiral. I even went to see a therapist, who told me I was suffering from severe depression. Medication could only suppress it but not fix it. He suggested that I either distance myself from the source of my depression or learn how to heal.

I knew the source all too well-it was Anna and Luke. But at the time, I was so consumed by my obsession that I allowed myself to sink deeper into the darkness.

Before I left the Sanders' house, I often hid in the basement studio, painting over and over again, getting hurt and then healing myself, over and over.

I never imagined that even in death, Anna wouldn't leave my work alone.

Suddenly, someone noticed the signature on one of the paintings, like they had just discovered something huge.

to enter a design competition, and I

time, my parents had high expectations for me. Fearing they'd think I was wasting

I'd publish a new piece, though no one knew it was me-not even Luke. Two

so I didn't explain or try to clear up the

debate online-some people claimed I was "S,"

two weeks, the whole

two years later, Anna had unearthed all the paintings I

always made a habit of hiding my signature within the artwork, and some of my longtime fans instantly recognized my style,

busy insulting me, while others were praising her. Anna, under the title of "genius artist," gained a reputation

whole situation was quickly shared online, and soon the internet

work I'd done under the name S was now being

watched all this unfold, a complex expression appearing in his eyes. Even though he didn't know that I was S, he was still familiar with my

tears. "Luke, who else could it be if not me? Haven't you always

thought the style looked different from what you

sticks to just one style. I can paint in lots of ways. Luke, you'll get to know

fingers slowly slid down his chest.