The color vanished from the director’s face.
He stared at the tiny silver letters on the paint-splattered handle. E. V. Evangeline Vane. The reclusive visionary the entire art world had been chasing for a decade.
“You…” The director choked, the polished ice in his voice shattering into sheer panic. “You’re… Ms. Vane? But your agent said you never attend viewings. We assumed—”
“You assumed a masterpiece couldn’t come from someone with mud on her boots,” she interrupted gently.
She walked past him, her stride slow and deliberate. She stopped right in front of the massive, covered canvas.
Around them, the murmurs of the wealthy collectors died down. Every eye in the room was now fixed on the woman in the faded trench coat.
The director scrambled after her, his hands fluttering in a desperate apology. “Ms. Vane, please. A terrible misunderstanding. Let me fetch you a glass of our finest vintage. Let me introduce you to our top buyers—”
Evangeline didn’t look at him. She looked at the young handler.
“Marcus,” she said, her voice carrying clearly through the silent marble room. “You understand that art is meant to be experienced. Not just guarded by gatekeepers.”
The young man nodded, his eyes wide, still holding the glossy catalog.
“My contract with this gallery expires after tonight’s sale,” Evangeline announced, her gaze finally drifting back to the trembling director. “I will be needing a new primary representative for my exclusive estate. Someone who understands humanity as well as they understand canvas.”
She stepped up to the velvet rope and took hold of the heavy silk drape.
“Marcus,” she smiled warmly. “Would you do me the honor of unveiling my work?”
The director opened his mouth to object, but the crushing silence of the room strangled his words.
Marcus stepped forward. With one smooth, confident pull, the dark fabric cascaded to the floor.
A collective gasp echoed through the gallery. Under the brilliant lights, the sweeping, explosive colors of the canvas perfectly matched the permanent smudges on her hands.
Evangeline turned to the pale, defeated director. “Now,” she said softly. “I believe you were showing me the exit.”