Stolen Canvas

y, overcast morning that mirrored Chloe' s tense mood. T

ications, a place where students showcased their best

nted that Chloe's style was a "collaborative effort" born fro

he walls, a chaotic and beautiful mess of teenage creativity. Chloe'

was a kind, rumpled man who had always encouraged her, but had been powerless against the influence of t

eachers, subtly positioning herself as the master artist guiding her prodigious student.

oe' s painting, Evelyn made her move. She glided to Chl

spent countless hours in the studio together, refining this vision. It was a true meeting of minds,

"What a wonderful mentor you are, Ms.

ing credit atom by atom. In the past, Chloe had been too shy and overw

ion. "A meeting of minds? Evelyn, what do you mean?" she asked, her voice j

owd went quiet, their eyes da

mmered, trying to laugh it off. "I just meant

nd soften the lines. Do you remember, in the studio last week? You said the admissions committee would think it was imm

t would undermine the narrative she had just been building. Mr. Harrison, who had been listening int

all the angles," Evelyn said, her voice tigh

disarming. "It made me realize how much I believe in my own

iment that solidified the work as entirely her own. She had thanked her for being a stepping stone, not

cking at the edges. She shot Chloe a look of pure fury, a look Chloe

to recompose herself. "Chloe," he said, his voice low. "That was

lways seen her talent for what it was. This was he

, and sometimes I think she worries my style is too... unconventional for the academy. She wants me to succeed, and I th

It's original. Don't ever let anyone tell you otherwise, not even a mentor a

d, a flicker of genuine gratitude in

lyn might be stifling, rather than nurtu

smile was gone, replaced by a cold, hard glare. "What was that, Chloe?" she hissed

er face a mask of innocence. "I was just being

on't understand how this world works. The admissions committee listens to people like m

yn's success. The fear she should have felt was replaced by a cold, hard certainty. She n

pulled out her phone. She looked down at the screen, where a small red light indicated that the voice mem

need my endorsement. That was the key. Evelyn wa

hile technically proficient, the applicant' s work lacks a cohesive, singular v

os of her finished painting, along with dozens of dated work-in-progress sho

to set a trap, and she would let Evelyn walk right into it. The public accusation was just