Beyond the Canvas

7

The heavy wooden door creaked as it swung shut behind Alex, leaving Ava and Martin standing amidst the declining noise of the auction hall. The scent of old wood and expensive cologne hung thick in the air. Ava felt a shudder crawl up her spine, the weight of their next move hovering over her.

Martin leaned in, his voice almost above a whisper. “He’s hiding something back there. This is our chance to see what he's hiding.”

Ava’s heart pounded as she nodded. “We just need to be careful.”

They waited for the murmurs of the crowd to increase before sneaking away from the main event. Ava followed Martin’s lead, his steps confident, as they moved toward the hallway where Alex had disappeared. Every shadow seemed to stretch and shift, playing tricks on her already tensed nerves.

At the end of the hall, Martin paused outside the door Alex had entered. He glanced at Ava, his hand hanging over the doorknob. “Ready?”

“No,” she said, her voice dry but steady. “But let’s do it.”

Martin grinned, then turned the knob slowly. The door opened with a faint click, revealing a poorly lit room lined with tall bookshelves. The room was empty, but the whispers of voices penetrated through a half-closed door at the back.

“This way,” Martin whispered, directing her inside.

The air in the study was laced with the scent of old paper. Ava’s eyes scanned the room, her gaze landing on a framed painting hanging on the wall. It was another one of her works—a piece she hadn’t seen in years.

She froze. “Martin, look! That’s my work.”

Martin turned, his eyes narrowing. “He’s not just selling your art. He’s stashing them.”

Before Ava could respond, a voice from the adjacent room cut her short. It was Alex, his tone sharp and commanding.

“We can’t afford any mistakes,” he said. “The Levine deal has already put too much attention on us. Make sure the next transfer goes smoothly.”

Ava exchanged a wide-eyed glance with Martin.

“Levinde deal?” she mouthed.

Martin’s jaw tightened. “Let’s get closer.”

They moved silently toward the half-closed door. Beyond it was a smaller room filled with computers showing security footage, databases of transactions, and images of numerous artworks—including more of Ava’s pieces. Alex stood in the center, bordered by a huge man in a dark suit.

“Your art isn’t just a facade,” Martin whispered. “It’s the source.”

Ava’s stomach twisted. Her name, her creations, had become tools for something ominous.

“I want this cleaned up before the weekend” Alex continued. “Levine's involvement has complicated things enough. If he gets too curious, we might have to deal with him.”

Martin’s grip on Ava’s arm tightened, pulling her back. His face was unreadable, but his eyes laced with determination.

“We’ve heard enough,” he said, his voice low. “We need to get out of here before we are caught, and then, figure out our next move.”

But as they turned to leave, the floor creaked beneath Ava’s heel.

The conversation in the other room stopped immediately.

“Did you hear that?” Alex’s voice was sharp, filled with suspicion.

Ava and Martin froze. For a moment, her heart sank inside her stomach. Then came the sound of footsteps walking slowly toward the door.

"Run,” Martin said, shoving Ava toward the study’s exit.

They moved quickly but silently, sneaking out of the study and back into the faintly lit hallway. Behind them, the door to the smaller room opened, and Alex's voice rang out.

“Who’s there?”

Ava’s pulse raced as they hurried down the passage. The sound of Alex and his security team chasing them echoed behind them.

“This way,” Martin said, grabbing her hand and leading her toward a side exit. They burst out into the cool night air, the estate’s trimmed garden spreading before them.

Ava’s heels sank into the grass as they ran, the sounds of their pursuers growing fainter with each step. When they finally reached their car, they both rushed inside. As they sped away, Ava looked at Martin, panting. “He knows we are aware now.”

“Let him know. We’re not backing down now,” Martin replied nonchalantly.

Ava turned to look out the window, the distant lights of the estate fading into the night. Her art had become a weapon. And as much as she wanted to withdraw, she knew there was no turning back.