son

. "Her gallery's opening was approaching, and she had a... creative b

er my life's work to 'borrow'?" The word was a venomous insult on my tongue. "You stol

ransaction. "Name your price, Addison. A gallery of your own. A

could buy my soul? He thought my art, the

de a move to push past him, my eyes set on the door. "I'm going to that gallery, a

e ice. He grabbed my wrist, his grip

. He was stronger, his body an unyielding wall. I twisted, t

fe

d, sweeping staircase of our penthouse. I landed at the bott

unadulterated panic in his eyes. He was down the stairs in a f

s voice tight with a fear

en, just sprained," he pronounced, his CEO-like assessment returni

barked at a terrified-looking maid. Then he turned to another. "Mr

To protect her reputation, he wa

d leaving me with a bottle of painkillers. The entire

ld out his arm, the sleeve of his expensive shi

oft. "Bite me. Hit me. Whatev

g me a release, a physical target for my rage, so that he

with all the fury and heartbreak in my soul. I tasted blood. He

onately, then reached into his jacket and pulled out his wallet. He ext

suffering," he sa

is with money? She's a thief, Grayson. And the art world is smal

problem. The exhibition... there's a massive online outcry. Dozens of critics and photographers are pointing out the

me a furious, accusatory look. "D

ction blooming in my chest. "My work speak

Mrs. Daugherty's signature use of light and shadow

cold it could have frozen

hard as stone. "You will log into your public account, and you will issue a statement. You will say yo

me to lie for her? To sacrifice my

o be ruined," he stated, as if it

rd a final, unbreaka

ontrol, hardened into something terrifyin

chilling whisper. He turned to his guards. "Take h

used to lock me in a dark closet as punishment. I had a deep, primal fear of the dark, of enclosed spaces. Grayson k

y most intimate wound, as a wea

pleading. This was a cruelty beyond anything he had don

a marble statue of a man, as his guards dragged

-