Chapter 13 Victor Kane?
Melissa’s POV
He named a figure that made several people gasp. More than any student had ever sold at a school exhibition.
“I…” Mrs. Chen looked stunned. “That’s very generous, but I’ll need to verify—”
“I’ve already verified.” He handed her a business card. “My team will be in touch. Have the pieces ready for pickup tomorrow.”
Then he turned and walked away, disappearing back toward the entrance as smoothly as he’d appeared.
The room erupted into whispers.
“Wait, was that—”
“Oh my God, that was Victor Kane!”
“THE Victor Kane?”
“No way. Mrs. Chen has been trying to get him to visit for three years—”
“He’s never responded to a single email—”
Mrs. Chen stared at the business card in her hand, her face pale.
I watched my best friend stand there, frozen. Her eyes were wide, unfocused. Like she couldn’t quite process what had just happened.
Then people started closing in.
“Aria, congratulations!”
“Can I get a photo with you?”
“Do you have representation yet?”
“My gallery would love to discuss—”
“Aria Martinez, right? I’m from the Arts Council—”
They swarmed her like bees. Students, teachers, collectors, everyone seemed to have forgotten of the girl who’d just been accused of plagiarism five minutes ago.
Tasha stood off to the side, her face twisted in rage. She looked like she wanted to set something on fire.
I caught Aria’s eye across the room. She was smiling,trying to answer everyone. My heart swelled with pride. But i kept glancing at the door where Victor Kane had just walked out from. I wasn’t sure, but I remembered seeing him with Gavin once. At the house. Coming out of his office.
My heart pounded harder.
I shook my head, trying to get the thought out. But seeing Aria surrounded by people now—my feet started moving toward the entrance before I could think much of it.
I had to know. I had to find out if—
I ran, hoping to catch up with him. I didn’t know why finding out was so important to me. My heels clicked against the floor as I weaved through the crowd, my heart racing.
I pushed through a group of parents, mumbled apologies, and kept moving.
Then I saw Ethan.
He was walking toward me through the gallery entrance,with his hands in his pockets, looking around like he was searching for someone. His eyes landed on me.
But I didn’t stop. I was already moving too fast, although I had a lot to ask him and I have been keeping an eye out for him, but not now.
“Melissa?” he called out.
I barely registered it. “Sorry, I—I have to— please wait for me”
I rushed past him, out into the hallway.
The corridor was quieter here, the sounds of the exhibition muffled behind me. I looked left, then right, searching for any sign of Victor Kane.
But it was empty.Damn it.
Before I could take another step, a hand grabbed my wrist.
Hard.
I gasped as I was yanked sideways, stumbling in my heels. My clutch almost fell from my hand.
“What—”
Then there was another pull, only stronger this time. I was being dragged toward a side hallway, away from the main gallery, away from everyone.
“Let go of me!” I tried to twist my wrist free as pain shot up my wrist, but the grip was iron-tight.
Everything happened too fast. We rounded a corner. The sounds of the exhibition faded to nothing. The hallway was dimmer here, lined with storage rooms and utility closets.
A door flew open and I was pulled inside.
The door slammed shut behind us.
Darkness swallowed me whole. My breath came in short, panicked gasps. I couldn’t see anything. And the space felt small, and cramped, I hated small spaces more than anything especially since the traumatic experience I had as a child.
“Who—” My voice came out shaky, and afraid.
A hand clamped over my mouth.
Terror shot through me. I tried to scream, but the sound was muffled. My heart hammered so hard I thought it might burst. I kicked backward, my heel connecting with something solid.
I heard a grunt of pain as the hand loosened slightly.
I bit down. Hard.
“Fuck!” The hand jerked away.
I spun around, stumbling backward until my spine hit the wall. My hands fumbled along the surface, searching desperately for a light switch, a door handle, anything.
My fingers found a switch. I flipped it. The bright light flooded the small storage room.
And I froze.
A man stood in front of the door, blocking my exit. He was tall, athletic build, with dark hair slightly tousled, his face twisted in pain as he shook out his hand.
My blood turned to ice.
“Jesus Christ, Melissa,” he said, looking at his hand where my teeth marks were already reddening. “You always did bite like a feral cat.”
No.
No, no, no. This could not be happening.
“Surprise,” he said, that cocky smile spreading across his face despite the pain. “Miss me?”
Troy.
My ex-boyfriend stood between me and the only exit, and suddenly the small storage room felt impossibly smaller, the air impossibly thinner.
He leaned against the door, casual, like we were old friends catching up. Like he hadn’t just dragged me into a dark room against my will.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I asked, seething with rage.
“I just had to see you. You gave me no choice.” His voice was desperate now, pleading. “I went to your old house after everything, and they said you don’t stay there anymore. I tried calling, texting—”
“So kidnapping me was your bright idea?”