CHAPTER 23

The call came mid morning. Pearl was hunched over a half-finished canvas, her fingers smeared in cobalt and gold, when her phone buzzed against the wooden workbench. She almost didn’t answer—it had been a slow, reflective morning—but the unknown number gnawed at her curiosity. “Hello?” she said, balancing the phone between her cheek and shoulder as she wiped her hands with a paint-splotched rag. “Good day.” the polite voice said. “This is Lennox Corporation. A client requested an exclusive piece from Bridge Arts. We understand you do deliveries personally?” Pearl hesitated. Lennox? She hadn’t worked directly with them before. That name felt too grand, too corporate for the raw, emotional pieces she often sold. “Yes,” she replied. “What’s the piece?” “The client selected Wounded Ascension,” the voice continued. “It’s to be delivered to Lennox Headquarters by noon.” Pearl blinked. That piece wasn’t even displayed publicly. It had been tucked away in the back of the gallery, too pe