Abigail’s POV
That morning, I got dressed with a heavy heart. I couldn’t shake the feeling that Nora had somehow sabotaged everything.
She always seemed to be one step ahead, but I needed answers. I needed to know how she had turned the situation around.
When I arrived at the art gallery, the air was filled with the faint smell of paint and varnish.
Nora stood near the center of the room, her voice sharp as she ordered one of her assistants to fix the positioning of a painting.
“Make sure it’s straight this time!” she snapped, her tone leaving no room for argument.
The young girl nervously adjusted the frame, nodding quickly.
I took a deep breath and stepped inside, the sound of my heels clicking against the floor grabbing her attention.
She turned toward me, her expression qui
