The hum of Bellamy Gallery lingered even after the last guest had gone. Gigi Jasmine stood in the middle of the room, heels clicking lightly against the polished floors as she circled one of the larger installations. The lights cast a mellow glow on canvases that had taken weeks to acquire, pieces that meant the world to the artists now trusting her with their work. Normally, this would have been her sanctuary. Her gallery was her proof that she hadn’t been broken by the past—that she had clawed something beautiful out of the wreckage left behind by her family’s downfall.
But tonight, the silence pressed on her like a weight.
Jason Jae’s face wouldn’t leave her mind. His sharp eyes, the way he leaned too close when he wanted to make a point, how his presence disrupted the surrounding air
