SELENES’s POV
The Meridian Art Fair happened once a year in the old gallery district, the kind of event that existed at the intersection of genuine culture and performative wealth. Artists whose work would sell for obscene amounts stood beside collectors who bought paintings the way other people bought furniture, for the statement rather than the feeling.
I hadn’t planned to attend but Clara had flagged it three days ago as a networking opportunity. Two foreign collectors I had been trying to schedule were both confirmed attendees, and informal setting made certain conversations easier than boardrooms allowed. I had agreed without much thought and moved on to the next item on the schedule.
Now, standing inside the main gallery hall with a glass of sparkling water in hand, I was beginnin
