You’re
The curator shakes her head firmly. “No. If anything, we’re all impressed by your boldness, coing to make some big
waves, Iris. Just you wait and see.”
SURPERISE GIFT: 3850 bonus free for you,activity time is limited!
日
Comments
ப
Support
GET IT
2/2
Chapter 18
Tris
+20 Bonus
The curator was right.
Over the days since my seminar, it seems that my ‘mysterious‘ identity as ‘Flora the artist‘ has drawn even more interest in my work than ever. My collection is being talked about all over online forums, with local Ordan critics writing articles on the
symbolism.
And then, of course, there were my… ‘bold‘ statements.
Truthfully, when I said those things about Arthur and his views on equality during the seminar, they just sort of… came out. It’s not that I didn’t mean what I said–I really do think that Arthur has done pretty much nothing when it comes to increasing
equality in Ordan over his five years as Alpha President–it’s just that I never expected myself to say them.
Especially not with so much passion.
But maybe it’s time. Arthur used to lay in bed with me and talk late into the night about his hopes for the future of this city, how he wanted nothing more than a world that was no longer divided between humans and werewolves but rather united.
Too bad that was all a lie. A lie just to keep me, his human mistress, around for just a little while longer to sate his needs. Until he
could find a more suitable woman to be his Luna, of course. A werewolf woman.
Still, I try not to dwell on it too much. Right now, I’m more consumed by my art career. The value of my art has shot up more in
the past few days than it has in years, and I’ve already been receiving calls and emails from interested buyers.
One offer in particular catches my eye. Someone is interested in purchasing ‘Wet Nurse‘, the star piece from my collection. And
whoever it is must be high–profile, because the email I receive is from an assistant and not the actual buyer.
I happily agree to meet the potential buyer at the gallery, then get dressed and head out. I don’t bother with my disguise today,
since I’ll be meeting the buyer alone. Rather, I opt for a smart pair of trousers and a button–down shirt, wanting to look as
professional as possible but also low key.
When I
I arrive at the gallery, I head in the back door after having learned my lesson the other night–I don’t want to be seen by any lingering journalists.
Although most of the recent buzz surrounding my involvement with Arthur has subsided, Arthur and Selina are still under intense scrutiny, so it’s best to lay low until I head back to Bo’Arrocan
I’m just turning the comer to the back entrance when I see her.
She’s wearing dark cat eye sunglasses and a silk scarf to cover her bleached blonde hair, but I would recognize Selina anywhere. Her face seared itself into my memory five years ago, and nothing I’ve done since then has been able to get it out.
I’ve tried therapy, meditation, even the more unconventional methods (at Brian’s suggestion) like energy healing and sound.
+20 Bonus
baths.
Nothing has worked. Selina’s smirking face, her eyes glittering with malice, haunts my dreams on a regular basis. So when I see her now, it’s only natural that I stop in my tracks, my hand fluttering up to touch the locket around my throat.
She sees me, too. Her mouth tugs up into that smirk that I know too well the moment she spots me, and she straightens, adjusting her designer purse on her shoulder. She’s with a sandy–haired man that I vaguely recognize, although I can’t quite put
my finger on it.
He seems to recognize me as well, his eyebrows shooting up.
“Well, well. Long time no see,” Selina says. “Hello. Iris, was it?”
