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Sammy’s breath was warm against my ear. He didn't ask for my stocks or my mansions. He whispered, "You're sad because of the girl in the picture, not because of your legs." / Chapter 9 / 10

Chapter 9 - THE STANDI pulled myself up from the wheelchair, clinging to the edge of a steel crate. My legs shook, bone against nerve, screaming in agony. I didn't look at the board members. I looked at the sons of my partners.

"I have spent ten years in a chair because I wanted to pay for what happened," I shouted. "If you want to end it, end it. But if you want to fix the company, if you want to make it right—take everything. I don't want the money. I just want the truth."

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The heavy mahogany door of the east gallery closed softly behind me, but the silence inside did not comfort me. It pressed down like lead.

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The cool marble of the private east gallery felt chilling beneath my fingertips. The pale moonlight streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows illuminated The Blue Woman, the haunting masterpiece my mother had painted just weeks before her tragic death.

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