BETRAYED HEARTS, RECLAIMED DREAMS.

Chapter-2-THE-GALLERY

CHAPTER 2: THE GALLERY

Judith's POV

Mirabel picked me up twenty minutes later in her little red car, her dark eyes flashing with anger as I climbed into the passenger seat, and by the time I finished telling her everything, she looked ready to commit murder.

"I'm going to kill him," she said flatly. "I'm going to kill both of them."

We drove in silence until I realized we were heading toward the gallery where my showing was being held.

"I can't face all those people right now," I protested.

"Yes, you can," Mirabel said firmly. "Because those photographs represent the woman you were before Benjamin, and I think you need to remember who that woman was."

The gallery was beautiful with floor-to-ceiling windows, and through them I could see people examining the photographs on the walls, my photographs from years ago when I was young and passionate about capturing moments that mattered.

"Judith!" Eden, the gallery owner, rushed toward me with a huge smile. "There you are, we were starting to worry you wouldn't make it."

Eden had been one of my photography professors in college and had stayed in touch over the years, always encouraging me not to give up on my art.

She led me through the gallery and I found myself looking at photographs I had taken during my travels through Asia, portraits of strangers who had shared their stories with me, landscapes that had taken my breath away.

"This one is my favorite," Eden said, stopping in front of a large print of an elderly woman in Vietnam sitting in a doorway with sunlight streaming across her weathered face.

I remembered taking that photograph, remembered how alive I had felt with my camera in my hands.

"Someone's already made an offer on it," Eden continued. "Actually, several people have, there's quite a bidding war happening."

"Ms. Scott?" A deep voice spoke behind me and I turned to find a tall man in an expensive suit watching me with intense gray eyes.

"Yes?" I replied.

"I'm Solomon Price," he said, extending his hand. "I wanted to tell you how much I'm enjoying your exhibition, I'm particularly interested in acquiring several pieces."

"Mr. Price has made extremely generous offers," Eden interjected excitedly.

Solomon handed me a business card that identified him as the CEO of Price Industries. "Take all the time you need to think about it, I'll be in the city for the next few weeks."

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of conversations and compliments, and by the time the gallery closed I was exhausted but exhilarated.

Mirabel drove me to her apartment where she insisted I stay for the night, and as I lay in her guest bed my phone buzzed with a message from Benjamin: We need to talk, please come home so we can discuss this properly.

I deleted the message without responding.

Another message came through, this time from Sandra: Please call me, I know you're angry but I need to explain everything, there's more to this story than you know.

I deleted that one too, but something about her words bothered me, what more could there possibly be?

My phone rang and I saw it was a number I didn't recognize, I almost ignored it but something made me answer.

"Mrs. Crawford?" A woman's voice said. "This is Detective April Martinez with the financial crimes unit. I need to speak with you about your husband's research center as soon as possible."

My heart stopped. "What about it?"

"We've received credible information that Dr. Crawford has been engaged in financial fraud," the detective said. "And according to our records, you're listed as a major investor, I need to ask you some questions."

I sat up in bed, my mind racing. "I'll cooperate however I can."

"Good," Detective Martinez said. "Can you come to the station tomorrow morning? And Mrs. Crawford, one more thing, don't tell your husband about this call."

After she hung up, I sat there in the darkness wondering what other secrets Benjamin had been keeping, and whether the man I married had ever existed at all.

Then my phone buzzed one more time with a text from an unknown number: If you want to know the truth about Benjamin and what he's really been doing with your money, meet me at Rosewood Café tomorrow at nine, come alone and don't tell anyone, your life may depend on it.