flash
The rain continued to lash against the glass buildings, but Patrick Gibson felt like he was standing in the middle of a desert. The photo in his hand was no longer just paper; it was a mirror of his own sins. / Chapter 8 / 9

Chapter 9 - The New BeginningPatrick Gibson, the man who owned half of New York, moved into a small apartment in Brooklyn. He didn't have his Bentley. He didn't have his private jet.

He got a job as a consultant for a small architectural firm. He spent his mornings walking Maisie to school. He spent his afternoons teaching her how to draw.

He was finally a father.

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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.

The heavy mahogany door of the east gallery closed softly behind me, but...

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.

The cool marble of the private east gallery felt chilling beneath my fin...

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