From Shadows, I Rise

thought I knew. I went back to my apartment and started to clean. It was a methodical, cleansing act. I took down the old family photos from my bookshelf, th

in the violent slashes of color and jagged lines. But now, looking at them through the lens of Mr. Sterling's revelation, I saw something else. I saw the truth I had been trying to express all along, a

all, dark canvas when my phon

So sad. Let me know if you need a little cash t

a way to remind me of her position and mine. Before, a message like this would have sent me into a sp

nued my work. Let her think I was weak. Let her thi

pe to my apartment. Inside was a check for five th

ight help with your expenses. Please don't feel you ne

with a financial transaction. They thought my pain could be quantified and paid off, that my artistic legacy had a price tag of five thousand dollars. It was

. It would be a reminder. A reminder of what they though

him about my mother's call, the text from Olivia, the check from

shed. "They see you as a loose end, a potential pro

oing to wor

ll smile touching his lips.

'A. North' collection. If they have those paintings, if they'

"After your father passed, Olivia and David took cont

he used for his most valuable pie

h-security. He kept his Monets there. If he was serious a

art. A path was beginning to form through the fog of betrayal. For the first time in mont

s app. An art blog had just posted an exclusive interview with Olivia. The headline read: `O

w taking up her father's mantle as a major force in the art world. It mentioned the upcoming auc

smiling, one hand resting possessively on a large, bubble-wrapped canvas. And behind her, stacked against the wall, I saw it. A fla

ivate storage. Sh

. Sterling. He looked at

acy," I said, my voice dangerous

y gaze. The wise, empathetic mentor w

to steal it