The Next Day: A Looming Crisis
690 Words
Rose barely got any sleep.
The second she walked into the gallery that morning, her stomach twisted with anxiety. The Clamté. The name alone sent a wave of dread through her.
She had hidden the broken painting deep in the storage unit two weeks ago, burying it beneath stacks of carefully wrapped canvases. Out of sight, out of mind. But that wasn’t going to work anymore—Rosaline was expecting to see it next week.
And the worst part? The loss would be costly. Painfully costly.
She gritted her teeth, running a hand through her loose waves as she paced in the backroom of the gallery.
Andrew was supposed to pay for it. Andrew was the one who broke it. But Andrew was also impossible to contact because he never gave her his damn number.
Should she just tell Rosaline the truth? Confess that The Clamté was in pieces and she had no idea how to fix this?
Or should she have faith that, somehow, Andrew would show up before the deadline?
Her fingers hovered over her phone, considering looking him up—but with what? She didn’t even know his last name.
Damn it.
After nearly an hour of overthinking, Rose made her decision.
She was just going to tell Rosaline.
Even if it meant dealing with whatever consequences came next.
An Interrupted Confession
Rose took a deep breath and walked toward Rosaline’s office.
Her boss sat behind her desk, a sleek glass structure that reflected the morning sunlight spilling through the windows. She was typing something on her laptop, her expression focused but unreadable.
Rose clenched her fists at her sides. Just tell her. Just get it over with.
“Rosaline, I—”
Before she could get another word out, the office phone rang.
Rosaline held up a finger, signaling for Rose to wait, before answering.
“Yes?” she said smoothly, her voice all business.
Rose exhaled sharply, shifting on her feet as she waited.
The phone call lasted barely a minute, but it was enough time for her panic to claw back up her throat.
“Understood,” Rosaline said before hanging up. Then she turned to Rose, fixing her with a curious expression. “Would you like to accompany me to a meeting today?”
Rose blinked. “…A meeting?”
“Yes. Your expertise is valuable,” Rosaline said, as if it were obvious. “It would be good for you to sit in.”
Rose hesitated. This was it. This was her chance to tell her about the painting.
But instead, the words caught in her throat. She couldn’t do it. Not yet.
“…Sure,” she said instead.
Rosaline nodded approvingly. “Good. We leave in twenty minutes.”
Arrival at the Five-Star Hotel
The moment Rose stepped out of the car, she stared up at the massive, gleaming building before her.
A five-star hotel.
Not just any hotel—a luxurious, state-of-the-art masterpiece of architecture. Every inch of the place exuded wealth, from the polished marble floors leading up to the grand entrance to the cascading crystal chandeliers glimpsed through the tall glass doors.
The kind of place where every surface shined, where luxury dripped from every detail—the grand entrance, the pristine glass walls, the well-dressed doormen ushering people inside.
Rosaline barely glanced at it as she strode forward with purpose, and Rose had to force herself to keep up, heels clicking against the marble floors as they entered. She followed Rosaline into the lobby, her heels clicking softly against the pristine flooring.
She didn’t know what kind of meeting this was, but it was definitely big.
They were led through the lavish halls, passing by murmuring guests in designer suits and elegant dresses. Finally, they reached the boardroom.
The executives were already seated inside, looking formal and professional. The atmosphere was polished, serious.
Rose took a quiet breath, standing beside Rosaline as they settled into place.
And then—
The door swung open.
A man walked in, slightly late but completely unbothered.
Rose’s heart stopped.
Her breath caught in her throat as she recognized him instantly.
Andrew.
- Writer
