The Ruined Canvases

Chapter 2 The Gilded Cage

For three years, every purchase and appointment had passed through Valeria.

The guards called it protection. Every request became a file on Valeria's desk. Every trip needed approval, and every locked door became another precaution for the Don's wife.

A tube of genuine Ultramarine paint required a three-day request, usually denied for security reasons.

When my allergy inhaler ran low, Valeria delayed the replacement for weeks and told Dante I should use house stock first. The next attack nearly put me in the emergency room.

She sat in on routine doctor's appointments and wrote down my answers before I had finished speaking.

Sometimes she answered for me. The doctors looked at her notes, then at Dante's name on the forms, and treated my body as another household asset under management.

I measured the last solvent as the studio handle turned. Valeria entered without knocking and checked the workbench, the shelves, then me.

She stopped at the climate-controlled cabinet holding my few remaining paintings.

"Dante approved a security upgrade."

She keyed in a new code. The cabinet lock reset with a low whir.

"Your hands are too unsteady, Aria. It would be a shame if you damaged something valuable. Concentrate on being a pretty vase."

She tried the door once, then left.

My phone buzzed on the workbench. A message from Dante.

*Be a good girl for Valeria. If you behave, I'll take you to the gala on Saturday.*

I read it once and set the phone face down.

Saturday was my reward: a few hours outside, under guard, in exchange for obedience.

Her footsteps faded down the hall. I pried the loose baseboard away from the wall.

The gray cleaner's uniform inside had cost me a pair of diamond earrings and a maid's silence two months ago.

I changed out of my silk lounge pants and cashmere sweater, pulled on the rough uniform, and tucked my hair under its cap.

The mixed solvent looked like water. I carried it into the living room, where a white smoke detector sat on the twenty-foot ceiling above a marble pedestal.

I climbed onto the pedestal, unscrewed the bottle, and wet the detector's sensors.

For three seconds, there was silence.

Then the alarms shrieked. Red lights flashed, and metal shutters began lowering over the bulletproof windows.

I jumped down as the sprinklers opened. Water hammered the Persian rugs and ran off the Italian furniture in sheets.

Within seconds, water pooled around the marble pedestal and soaked the silk upholstery. Loose papers floated toward the descending shutters.

Guards rushed past, calling out room numbers and searching for flames. Nobody looked twice at a cleaner carrying an empty bottle.

I kept to a walk until I reached the bulletproof doors of Dante's office. There I left the signed divorce papers and the lab report on the driest strip of floor I could find.

The main lifts locked down. I joined two evacuating staff members and stepped into the service elevator.

Above us, the sprinklers soaked ten million dollars of art and decor. The security team kept hunting for flames.

The service elevator carried me down toward the city. No guard stopped it. Every eye stayed on the sealed penthouse.

(Dante's POV)