Victor Kane stared out of his office window, his fingers drumming on the armrest of his chair. His mind was sharp, every move calculated—except, perhaps, for the one that led him to agree to a meeting with Madeline Sinclair.The journalist had been persistent, sending emails, making calls, and even showing up uninvited at a few of his events. He’d finally relented, though he assumed it would be like all the others: a formal, controlled interview where his carefully crafted persona would deflect any real questions.“Fine,” he’d said, “you can meet me. But not in a newsroom. Meet me at the gallery. Tomorrow at seven.”Madeline arrived, her heels clicking on the polished marble floor of the private art gallery Victor owned. The space was sleek, almost cold, but the artwork on the walls had a pulse to it—expressions of struggle, resilience, and reinvention. It was all raw emotion, much like the man who owned it.She lingered before a piece that took her breath away: a phoenix rising from
Last Updated : 2024-11-25 Read more