Chapter One

In a room filled with fancy people wearing elegant clothes, there stood Armand Grey, dressed in a simple attire but beaming with happiness.

His paintings, the ones he had been creating for his -in-laws for years, were now on display at the art gallery.

Armand was never feeling fully accepted by his in-laws. In their eyes, he didn't deserve their daughter because he was poor.

However, Armand stayed because of his love for Carla. Now, the family has decided to showcase and sell his artwork. Also, he would be given his rightful share from the sale of his paintings.

Soon, Armand watched as his in-laws entered the gallery. Celine Smith, his mother-in-law, Charles Smith, his father-in-law, Carl Smith, his brother in law and Ruby, his wife. Carla, Armand's wife, was the last person who walked in.

Armand hurriedly approached and welcomed them. Celine nodded coldly while Charles gave him a stern look.

However, Carl, dressed in an expensive Armani suit, immediately scrutinized Armand's attire with condescension.

"What on earth are you wearing?" Carl asked disdainfully.

Armand lowered his head and looked at his outfit. He had on a simple trouser and a white shirt, neatly tucked in.

"My best clothes." He replied to Carl.

Ruby chimed in, "You're always looking for a way to disgrace the family, aren't you?"

Before Armand could respond, his father-in-law intervened, "Armand, be quiet, you look like a pauper. Do not disgrace us tonight. Stay in one corner."

Armand nodded and replied, "Yes, father."

Carl, with a smirk, remarked, "Tonight's going to be life-changing, especially for you, Armand."

Armand assumed Carl was talking about the money he was about to earn from the sale of his paintings, and he confidently replied, "I know,"

but his words were met with laughter from Carl and Ruby.

Confused, Armand questioned them, "Why are you guys laughing?"

Carl looked him straight in the eyes and replied, "You have no idea what's coming."

Armand looked at Ruby and asked, "What's he talking about?" Ruby scoffed but said nothing in reply.

The family then walked away. Trying to connect with his wife, he gently pulled her arm.

"What do you want?" Carla asked rudely.

Armand apologized and added, "You look really beautiful tonight."

Carla replied, "I already know that," and walked away.

At the front of the gallery, the attention of the attendees shifted as Mr. and Mrs. Smith took the stage. The couple greeted everyone warmly, expressing their delight at the impressive turnout.

Mrs. Smith smiled, "As you look around, you'll witness an array of breathtaking paintings."

The crowd nodded appreciatively, their eyes wandering over the displayed artworks.

Mr. Smith chimed in, "Now, let us take a moment to appreciate the incredible talent behind these masterpieces. The man we're about to introduce is truly gifted."

Mrs. Smith concurred, "Indeed, tonight, we celebrate the man with the magic hands."

Armand, standing amidst the audience, felt a surge of giddiness, anticipating that his name was about to be mentioned.

Mrs. Smith continued, "It is my warm pleasure to welcome on stage, Carl Smith, my son."

Armand's heart, once lively with anticipation, sank like a heavy stone as Mrs. Smith's announcement echoed through the gallery.

"Carl Smith, my son."

Confusion etched across Armand's face, his hopeful gaze shifting to disbelief. He watched in dismay as Carl, wearing a triumphant smile, made his way to the front of the gallery.

The applause from the guests, which Armand had pictured would be for himself, now resonated for Carl, enlarging the contrast between what he had expected to happen and the harsh reality unfolding before him

"No, this isn't right," Armand muttered under his breath, his disappointment turning into desperation. He attempted to move toward the front of the gallery, only to be abruptly halted by two imposing security guards he hadn't noticed earlier.

"Let me through! There's been a mistake." Armand pleaded.

Firmly, the first guard replied, "No. You're not allowed beyond this point."

Armand's confusion heightened, "I'm the son-in-law of the Smiths! You have to let me through!"

The guards, giving Armand a disdainful look from head to toe, dismissed him, "You must be a mad man."

"Please, I beg you. There's been a mistake. I need to rectify it."

Despite Armand's pleas, the guards remained unmoved. Determined, Armand tried to push his way through, but one of the guards, with surprising strength, roughly lifted him off the ground.

That sudden action drew the attention of everyone in attendance, causing a murmur to ripple through the crowd.

Mrs. Smith intervened, her authoritative voice cutting through the tension, "Put him down!"

Reluctantly, the security guard roughly slammed Armand onto the floor. Armand winced as his body made harsh contact with the surface.

Despite the humiliation, Armand summoned his strength, and he picked himself up from the floor, silently absorbing the gazes of the onlookers. With resilience, he made his way to the front of the gallery.

"Why are you causing a scene?" Mrs. Smith demanded.

Armand pointed directly at her, his frustration boiling over, "You and your husband are liars!

A gasp swept through the audience, followed by an angry retort from Carl, "How dare you?"

Armand was firm, "You've all been deceived. It wasn't Carl who painted those artworks; it was me! I've poured my heart and soul into each one."

The Smith burst into laughter, drowning out Armand's earnest plea. However, he persisted, determined to make the audience believe.

"I've been the silent artist behind these paintings, and now my in-laws are trying to rob me of my moment!"

Mr. Smith addressed the audience, "Please forgive my son-in-law. We've always been good to him, but he seems determined to disgrace us."

Mr. Smith went further, labelling Armand a pathological liar.

Armand screamed back, vehemently denying the accusation, "I'm not lying!"

Ruby chimed in, directing the audience's attention to Armand, "Look at him. Does he strike you as someone who can even hold a paintbrush, let alone create these masterpieces? It's obvious, isn't it? He's just jealous of Carl's talent."

In a desperate attempt to salvage his reputation, Armand screamed, "She's lying! These paintings are my work!"

However, his plea was drowned out by the collective support of the powerful Mrs. Nightingale, Mr. Robinson and Mrs. Carson, three influential families in the city who joined ranks with the Smiths.

"How dare you try to tarnish the Smiths' reputation with your baseless claims?" Mrs. Nightingale asked.

Condescending, Mr Robinson concurred, "You're nothing more than a delusional imposter."

Mrs. Carson joined in, "Clearly, envy has clouded your judgment."

Desperation etched across his face, Armand turned to his wife for support, pleading, "Tell them, Carla. Tell them the truth."

Carla, however, met his gaze with cold detachment. "What truth?" she retorted, shaking her head. "I owe my family an apology. You were just a liar all along, and I have no idea why I married you in the first place."

As if on cue, Carl joined his sister, smirking at Armand. "Glad you're finally seeing the light, Carla. It's time to do the right thing."

Carla nodded in agreement, walked past Armand, and stood in front of the audience. In a tone that cut through the tension, she announced, "I'll be divorcing him." The words hung in the air, sealing Armand's fate.

You can't do that to me, Carla. I love you," Armand pleaded, his voice laced with pain.

Carla turned to look at him, her expression cold. "I can, and I will. I never loved you."

Armand, heartbroken, mustered a resolve. "I have proof that I created those paintings."

That statement made the Smiths curious. "What proof?" Mr. Smith asked.

Armand scoffed, "You weren't expecting this, right? Well, I recorded myself while making the paintings. I'll upload the videos on all social media handles. Everyone will see the truth."

Armand implored, "Please, give me ten minutes. I've got proof at home on my phone."

Ruby scoffed, "Ten minutes? How do you plan to get there with no one to drive you?"

Swiftly, Armand snatched the car keys from Carla's hand. As he rushed out of the gallery, he heard Mrs. Smith instructs Carl to go after him.

In a frantic rush, Armand made his way to the parking lot, jumping into the car and speeding off. On the highway, anxiety gripped him as he glanced in the rearview mirror, spotting Carl aggressively tailing him.

A sense of foreboding washed over Armand, and a realization hit him – he might not live to see the next day. In a moment of desperation, he cried out, "I pray someone avenges me and brings the Smiths down!"

A deep, resonant voice echoed, "You will avenge yourself."

Armand, bewildered, scanned his surroundings. "Who was that?" he asked, but before he could get an answer, Carl's car slammed into him. Armand lost control, swerving into the oncoming lane. In the blink of an eye, an incoming trailer collided with his car.

On that day, the 30th of March 2024, Armand Grey died.