Page 94 of My Ruthless Husband

She visibly relaxes. “We can wait here for a few minutes. You don’t have to go in right away.”

I smile. “Thanks.” Then try to take a few long breaths. Vicky stares the entire time. Curious, I ask, “Would you report Damian about this?”

“Absolutely, ma’am.”

“But I am fine.”

“Nevertheless, Mr. Montgomery prefers to stay informed about every aspect.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Oh, really? Are you supposed to report every time I use the bathroom too?”

Her expression remains serious as she responds, “If it’s necessary for your safety, ma’am, I won’t hesitate to report it.”

Well, this conversation has officially killed my nerves. Now, I’m just plain pissed. Not at Vicky. She is just doing her job. I’m angry with my dear husband. He didn’t bother to call me last night and expects every minute updates about me.

Anyway, I’m not going to overthink about him. “I’m feeling better now. Let’s go.”

I hesitate for a moment before pushing the glass door open. The faint smell of fresh paint hits me first, followed by the quiet buzz of voices inside. The studio feels alive yet serene, with easels scattered in one corner, their canvases streaked with bold, colorful strokes.

Soft instrumental music plays in the background.

A petite middle-aged woman with a warm smile approaches us. She extends a hand. “Welcome! You must be River. I’m Laura, the organizer of our art therapy initiative.”

I take her offered hand, finding an instant comfort in Laura’s genuine demeanor. “Nice to meet you. This is Vicky, my bodyguard. Thank you for having us. This place is incredible.”

Laura’s eyes light up. “Thank you! We believe in the healing power of art. It’s a safe space for individuals to express themselves, confront their emotions, and find solace. We’re thrilled to have your support.”

As we walk through the studio, Laura shares the stories behind the artwork hanging on the walls.

The pieces, created by the individuals who frequent this space, are a profound reflection of their emotions and experiences. The walls display a diverse range of art, each telling a unique tale.

Some paintings are filled with raw emotions—deep reds and blacks slashed across the canvas like a cry for help. The chaotic lines scream anger and frustration, but there’s something freeing about them too, like the artist was letting it all out.

Then there are the softer pieces. Gentle pastels and smooth strokes feel calm, almost like a breath of fresh air. They tell a different story—one of healing, of finding peace through art, and slowly putting the pieces back together.

I can’t help but be moved by the depth of emotion captured in all of the works.

We reach a cozy corner where a group of people, from different age groups, are focused on their art. Laura gestures toward them. “This is where the magic happens. Today’s session is an open studio day. Participants work on their individual projects.”

As I confess my lack of experience in volunteering, I sense anxiety taking over once again. Laura looks at me kindly and it gives me courage to admit that despite numerous online courses, I’ve never worked a day in my life. My face warms as I await her judgment, but instead, she offers a reassuring smile, “You have nothing to worry about, River,” Laura says. “Here, you don’t need any specific skill to volunteer. What matters most is your intention to help. You can circulate, offer support, or simply engage in conversation. Everyone’s contribution is valued, and your presence alone can make a difference.”

I offer Laura a grateful smile before letting my gaze wander around the room. My smile fades a little. I want to help, but the idea of jumping into conversations with strangers feels overwhelming. Maybe easing into it would make things better.

“Um, Laura,” I begin, hesitating, “I don’t want to sound like a snob, but... would it be possible for me to take on a task that doesn’t require too much interaction today? I haven't been verysocial lately, and honestly, I'm a little nervous about diving into conversations right away.”

“Of course! We want you to feel comfortable and find your pace here. How about we start with something more behind-the-scenes, like organizing art supplies or setting up the space? You can take your time to get familiar with everything, and when you’re ready, we can explore more interactive roles.”

A wave of relief washes over me and my tense shoulders visibly ease as I offer Laura a sincere smile. “Thank you so much, Laura. That sounds perfect. I appreciate your understanding.”

“Oh, hush now,” Laura replies, waving away my thanks with a soft chuckle. “Head to the second floor. We’re organizing a special event this week, and there are a few new volunteers who joined to help. They are currently busy coordinating the details and setting up. Matt is leading the efforts, overseeing the preparations. It’s a fantastic opportunity for you to jump right in.”

“All right,” I smile and start toward the stairs. When Vicky falls into step beside me, I give her a sidelong glance. “You’re coming with me?”

“Of course, Mrs. Montgomery.”

I grimace. “Can you please not… call me that. Not here at least.”

“May I ask why?”

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