Chapter 6
907 Words
The atmosphere inside Sheina Blake’s private studio, located in a renovated warehouse in a quiet industrial district of London, felt very tense.
There was no obvious luxury from the outside, but inside, the space was wide, with high ceilings and large windows framing the gray, overcast sky.
The sharp scent of oil paint, turpentine, and a strong layer of jasmine perfume greeted Damian Xavier as he stepped inside alone. As agreed, he came without Mark.
Sheina stood in front of a large canvas covered with a white cloth. She wore an oversized white shirt stained with paint and black trousers. Her sharp bob haircut made her look very different from Camila in the past, who always preferred soft floral dresses.
“You’re right on time, Mr. Xavier. I suppose the rumors about your discipline are true,” Sheina said without turning around, still busy mixing a deep red color on her palette.
Damian stopped a few steps behind her. His eyes scanned the room, searching for any clue that could prove his suspicion.
“I didn’t come here to talk about discipline, Sheina. I just want to see the paintings that are worth millions of dollars.”
Sheina put down her palette and slowly turned around. She crossed her arms over her chest, looking at Damian with a flat, unreadable expression.
“The entire collection in this exhibition will belong to your foundation for thirty million dollars. The contract is on that wooden table. Sign it, and everything is done.”
But Damian remained silent. His gaze was locked on Sheina. He didn’t even look at the table. Instead, he slowly stepped closer.
“Why did you want me to come alone? Are you afraid my assistant might see something he shouldn’t?” Damian smiled slightly.
Sheina walked toward him, her footsteps almost silent on the cold concrete floor. She stopped right in front of him. The distance between them was so close that Damian could smell the same jasmine perfume as the night before—an aroma that had been haunting him ever since.
“I just want to know how strong your desire is to own my artworks,” Sheina whispered, her faint smile sounding challenging.
Damian stared into her eyes, searching for the same spark that Camila once had. But he found nothing. Sheina was calm and cold—completely different from Camila.
“You are so much like her. Your voice, your scent… even the way you stand. How can two people be so identical in this world?” he murmured unconsciously.
Sheina let out a short, elegant laugh, but it pierced Damian deeply.
“The world is very big, Mr. Xavier. Your delusion only makes you look pathetic. Are you so consumed by guilt over your wife’s death that you try to bring her back through every woman you meet?” she asked mockingly.
“Watch your words, Sheina!” Damian snapped, his voice echoing through the silent studio.
“Why? Am I wrong? You are responsible for her death, aren’t you?” Sheina challenged, her eyes flashing.
Damian’s hands clenched tightly at his sides.
“Don’t act like you know everything, Sheina. If you’re not Camila, then how do you know I feel that way? Or… are you really my Camila?”
Sheina fell silent. She realized she had almost trapped herself in that situation. She took a deep breath.
“I have nothing to do with Camila. I’ve said this many times, Mr. Xavier. Talking about Camila is more than enough. Now let’s return to our contract,” Sheina said, trying to stay calm and change the topic.
But Damian looked at her even more sharply, full of suspicion.
“I will prove who you really are, Sheina Blake. I don’t care how neatly Julian Thorne has hidden your past. I will find the cracks.”
Sheina gave a faint smile, filled with a hint of pity.
“Go ahead. But remember, Mr. Xavier… the deeper you dig, the more you’ll realize there is nothing left to find. Camila Wilson has nothing to do with me.” She gestured toward the table with her chin.
“Sign the contract, or leave my studio right now. I don’t have time to entertain a grieving man’s drama.”
Damian’s jaw tightened. He had no choice but to walk to the table and sign the documents roughly. His silver pen almost tore the paper. He turned and looked at Sheina one last time.
“I won’t give up, Sheina. My instincts have never been wrong. And this time is no different. I’m sure you are Camila Wilson… my wife,” he said before leaving.
The studio door closed again. Damian was gone. But Sheina’s knees felt weak, and her body slowly dropped onto the wooden chair.
The hands that had been steady moments ago were now trembling violently. She pressed her chest, trying to control her breathing as the emotions she had been holding back began to overflow.
“Damian… I won’t let you take off my mask,” she whispered softly.
Meanwhile, as Damian got into the limousine, Mark was already waiting with a phone in his hand.
“Sir, the private jet is ready. We will depart for Cornwall in one hour.”
Damian nodded coldly. “Good. I want to know the church where Sheina Blake and Thomas Blake got married. I’m sure there’s something we can find there.”
- Writer
