The open door, where a sparrow flies to freedom.
It’s the most emotive work by Libertas I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen many of their paintings. My mother and I went to a Libertas exhibit years ago when I was still in school. We love the artist’s work.
Libertas is an alias, but no one knows the genius behind the name’s true identity. The secret is part of the painter’s mysticism and folklore.
How did a cheap chump like Leo get his hands on a never-before-seen painting by a world-renowned artist? On a nearby table, an auction menu lays forgotten. I beeline for it and scan the contents.
Maybe the program contains a clue regarding where he stole the piece from. Even the smallest hint of intel could make a difference.
The painting is the second to last item up for auction. There’s no information on where Leo got the painting from?—
Hold up.
I blink hard, as if the words will change if I refresh my vision. Under the name of the painting they’re currently taking bids on, I find the final item on the auction menu…
Libertas.The famously reclusive and anonymous artist is…up for sale? What kind of fuckery is this?
How can the De Lucas auction off a famous painter?
My best guess is that they’ve unearthed the painter’s identity, and they’re planning to sell this coveted piece of information.
But as exciting as that is, I’m not sure the information is valuable enough to interest families like the Petrovs, who own more fine art than the Metropolitan.
“Something stinks.”
Darren scoffs. “Say it again for the people in the back.”
“Keep an eye on Leo. I’m on my way.”
Chapter 4
Kiara
“Are you ready?” The strength in Mae’s voice is wasted on me.
“Not even a little bit.” My leg won’t stop jiggling from nerves. Mae runs her soft hand over my cheek in a soothing gesture.
“You know you can’t stay here any longer,” she whispers. Her voice cracks. “Master Leonardo has made that impossible.”
After Leo basically shoved me onto the auction floor and had his guard prance me around to meet a bunch of creepy-ass dudes that I’ve already done my best to forget, I was escorted back to a dressing room somewhere in the bowels of this cavernous place. Despite the generous size, the space may as well be a closet. I’ve never experienced a deeper sense of claustrophobia.
Of being caged.
An invisible vice tightens around my ribs.
Aside from an oversized vanity fit for ten people to do their makeup at once, the room is empty. Several bright lights beat down on us.
A velvety couch is slung into one corner of the room. Dress bags hang over it, limp and lifeless. I wish I could climb into one and pretend my life wasn’t a giant dumpster fire. With my luck, though, I’d pass out from heat and low oxygen, and thenone of the shining examples of society in attendance at this event would mistake me for a dead body and toss the bag into an incinerator with me inside.
Good to know I’m remaining optimistic in the face of adversity.
Mae paces behind me. I watch her in the mirror until my eyes catch on my own reflection. I cringe at the sight. As if selling me to the highest bidder wasn’t already terrible enough, Leo decided to double down on my horror by buying me a dress that could cause even a sex worker to blush.
The neckline dips obscenely low between my breasts, and the material clings tightly to my curves before ending just below my ass. The silver platform stilettos on my feet would fit right in at a strip club.
I don’t know what I was expecting. An elegant ballgown? Please.
Even after all the ugliness within this family, I guess a tiny part of me still hoped for a happy ending. That’s how I know I’ve read too many fairy tales.
