Chapter 138
Marius Florence
The studio opening has gone exceptionally well.
Too well.
The halls of the newly restored Florence Gallery hum with admiration—low, reverent murmurs spilling from critics, nobles, collectors, and artists drawn from every corner of Solmere.
Chandeliers cast a honeyed glow over marble floors. Soft orchestral music drifts through the open space, elegant and unobtrusive, curated to elevate without overwhelming.
The art is exquisite.
Sculptures carved with such intimacy they appear to breathe. Glass installations that fracture the light into kaleidoscopic brilliance.
This gallery represents decades of wealth, influence, and obsession refined into one undeniable truth:
Marius Florence always gets what he wants.
I smile easily as a drone camera whirs past, its lens sweeping dramatically over the crowd before pivoting toward me. I incline my head, acknowledging applause, returning practiced warmth.
