The following morning broke bright and unrelenting, sunlight slanting through Gigi’s blinds in thin, merciless bars. She rolled onto her side, groaning against the brightness, her mind still restless from the night before. Sleep had been impossible; every time she closed her eyes, fragments returned—the memory of Jason’s intense gaze, Jonathan’s calm smile, the bouquet of lilies that seemed to bloom in her head no matter how many times she tried to push it away.
She rose eventually, choosing efficiency over languor. The day was already waiting, and Bellamy Gallery didn’t allow her the luxury of sulking in bed. She dressed in her usual understated elegance: crisp blouse, tailored trousers, a muted scarf that softened her face. Comfort and precision—her armor against the chaos swirling at t
