The Price of Stolen Genius

ight. Mr. Anderson sat in his leather armchair, reading the Wall Street Journal, his f

e room, throwing her

ay for no reason! He's co

aper, his gaze pinning me

isagreement,"

jealous of me and Ethan, that's all i

han has a reputation. I didn't want to see Nicole get

-maybe calculation-passed through his eyes. He valued results, and a

larship is your priority. Don't let anything, or anyone,

. It was the smaller room at the end of th

you're playing, Caleb,

oncept for my final portfolio piece. The one abo

would give her the spark, the core idea that she would

blank canvas,

N

"What do yo

ou. It's your portfolio, Nicol

f confusion and indignation. "But... yo

my own sketchbook. "I have my own work

sharp laugh. It wasn't a kind sound. "Don't be ri

I said, not

to back down, to give in like I always did. When

't need you.

ammed shut

A figure curled in on itself. The raw, visceral memory of the st

drawn. And for the first tim