Anya’s hands trembled with rage as she fought to maintain her composure. “I’ll never marry you again, Daniel. Not in a million years. And if that means I’ll never get that painting, then so be it.”

Daniel’s facade slipped for a moment, a flicker of frustration crossing his features. “I know you are angry, Anya, about what I did more than a month ago. Are you just going to let it go?” he asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Anya, I have lots of money rotting ...