Stolen Canvas

filled her small, cold attic room, a constant reminder of a passion that had become her pois

ting long, dancing shadows on the walls covered with her unsold

ould have had. The screen glowed, showing a live stream from a grand art gala.

egant and poised in a designer gown. Behind her,

n every stroke. It was Chloe' s style. The style Evelyn had called "immatur

unique vision has taken the world by storm.

from the heart," she said, her voice smooth and confide

d from her fingers, clattering onto the floor. The last thing she saw was the chyron at the bottom of th

p for

asn't thick with turpentine. It was clean, fresh, with the faint s

ished. She looked down at her hands. They were smooth, stron

school bedroom. The walls were covered with posters of famous artists and her own early, hopeful sketc

She was healthy

in. This wasn't a dream. This was a second chance. A fierce

hunger, the cold, the condescending pity in the eyes of passersby as she sketched portraits for s

er she hadn't felt in years. "You will not destroy me again,

ked open. "Chloe, hon

ut the soft, caring tone she had used for years, the one that had lulled Chloe into

heen of fame she' d worn in Chloe' s last moments. She

ool," Evelyn said, her eyes warm. "We need to talk about the

of this woman, the architect of her suffering, pretending to be a loving mother was nauseating. The old, naive

She couldn't reveal what she knew, not yet. An open confrontation now would be foolish. Evelyn

little hoarse. She cleared her t

uspecting nothing. "Wonder

but a cold, calculated strategy. In her past life, her art was her only weapon, and it had been stolen. This time, she would arm

, photograph her works-in-progress, and even record their conversations if she had to. She would r

ime, Chloe would hand her a counterfeit,

as a piece she remembered vividly, a burst of color and light that had been the purest expression of her un

ffection. "But it feels a little chaotic. What if you muted the background here? And maybe cha

ltered the painting. Those very "suggestions" were the first seeds of the style Evelyn would

ou for the suggestion, Evelyn," she said, her tone light and respectful. "But I' ve thought about it a lot, and this chaos, this sh

but it was the first one Chloe had ever made against her m

her eyes before being quickly masked by her usual war

just trying to help you put your best foot forward for the admissions committee. They can be very... traditional." She patted Ch

g like a warning. Chloe stood motionless, her heart beating a stead

ng a stack of new notebooks. In one, she began meticulously sketching, dating and signing every si

rt Evelyn stole, every lie she told, every person she manipulated. She was building her arsenal.

he was a general preparing for war,