I glance at the cover. A name I don’t recognize. A Sicilian address. A blurred photo of a man in his fifties with dead eyes and a thin smile.
“Who’s this?” I ask.
“The man who used to own you on paper,” Dante says.
The room tilts a fraction.
I flip the folder open.
There it is. A scanned contract. Not the marriage one. Another, older. My name is in block letters. SIGNATORY: JAMES “JIMMY” ROSS (MANAGER). BUYER: SALVATORE D’ANGELO.
The clause Dante mentioned jumps out at me.
*The Buyer shall have full rights to the Artist’s likeness, time, and person, and may make whatever use of said likeness, time, and person he sees fit.*
My stomach heaves.
“I didn’t…sign this,” I say.
“No,” Dante says. “You signed something else. A related document giving Jimmy power of attorney over certain de
