Night at the Museum
The high from Catherine's party lasted exactly until the moment I stepped back into the gallery's basement. I was still wearing Vivian's black silk dress, feeling like a literal princess, when I heard whispering coming from the storage room.
I ducked behind a stack of shipping crates. Suzette and Renee were standing over the master inventory list for the Arnold Grant collection. They had a red pen out, and they were laughing—that sharp, mean-girl laugh that makes your skin crawl.
"If we move the provenance documents for the de Kooning to the 'unverified' pile, Claire will lose her mind," Renee whispered, her eyes gleaming under the dim fluorescent lights.
"And guess who was in charge of filing them?" Suzette smirked, marking a big 'X' on the folder. "Our little 'Director' Santos. When Arnold Grant sees that the paperwork is 'missing' tomorrow morning, Ana won't just be fired. She'll be blacklisted for negligence. Claire doesn't play about her reputation."
My heart was beating out of my chest. They weren't just being mean anymore; they were trying to ruin my life. Tbh, I wanted to walk out there and snatch the pen out of Suzette's hand, but I knew I had to be smarter. I waited until they left, their expensive heels clicking up the stairs.
I scrambled to the desk. They hadn't just moved the papers; they'd hidden the original authentication seals. Without those, the paintings were basically worthless. I spent the next three hours digging through trash bins and file cabinets. I was sweating in my designer dress, my hair was a mess, and I looked nothing like a "Director."
Just as I found the seals tucked inside a box of old catalogs, the door creaked open.
I froze, thinking it was Claire. But it was Will. He was standing there with two cups of coffee, looking at the dusty basement and then at me—looking like a disaster in a silk dress.
"Ana?" he asked, his brow furrowed. "What are you doing down here at 2 AM?"
"I... I forgot some paperwork," I lied, my voice shaking. "Director duties never end, right?"
Will walked over, setting the coffee down. He looked at the files spread out. "You're working this hard for a gallery that treats its people like this?" He gestured to the cramped, dark room.
"I love the art, Will," I said, and for once, it was the 100% truth. "Sometimes you have to stay in the basement to make sure the light hits the paintings right tomorrow."
Will stepped closer, reaching out to brush a smudge of dust off my cheek. The vibe was heavy, fr. He looked at me with so much respect, and it killed me because I was still holding a lie.
"You're different, Ana," he murmured. He leaned in, his face inches from mine, and for a second, I thought he was going to kiss me right there in the dust. "You actually care about the soul of the work."
He didn't kiss me then—he just gave me a soft smile and left the coffee. I stayed up the rest of the night fixing everything Suzette broke. When they walked in the next morning, expecting me to cry, I just handed Claire the perfect, completed folder.
Suzette's face turned a shade of purple I didn't know was possible. No cap, they tried to bury me, but they forgot I was a seed.