Chapter 7 - The Final ActSix months later, the New York art world was buzzing with the grand opening of The Luna Gallery in Soho.
The three-story historical brick building was packed to capacity with influential critics, elite collectors, and cultural patrons admiring the stunning contemporary exhibits lining the exposed-brick walls. Flashbulbs popped continuously, local art magazines were already fighting over exclusive interview rights, and the success of my independent career was officially sealed.
Standing near the grand staircase in a chic, tailored cream-colored jumpsuit, I watched the vibrant room hum with energy.
Through the front glass doors walked Liam and Amber.
They looked exhausted. Liam’s tailored suits had been replaced by cheap, off-the-rack jackets, and Amber looked hollowed out, carrying herself with a bitter, defeated posture. Without the Rossi trust fund to support their lazy lifestyle, reality had hit them like a freight train. They had come to the gallery hoping to beg for a favor, or perhaps just out of morbid, desperate curiosity.
Before security could intercept them, I raised a hand, signaling for the guards to let them through.
They approached me slowly, the crowd parting around them with polite disdain.
“Luna,” Liam mumbled, his voice small, lacking an ounce of the arrogance he used to wear like armor. “Your… your gallery is amazing. We just wanted to… well, congratulations.”
Amber stared at the polished hardwood floors, unable to meet my eyes, her face burning with humiliation.
I didn't gloat. I didn't scream or throw champagne in their faces. I didn't need to. Success is the ultimate revenge, and standing here in a building I owned, surrounded by people who respected me, was louder than any insult I could ever deliver.
“Thank you, Liam,” I said, my voice smooth, polite, and completely devoid of emotion. “It turns out I’m much better at building things on my own than I ever was at carrying dead weight.”
Before Liam could choke out a reply, a warm, heavy arm slid comfortably around my waist.
I didn't even have to look to know who it was.
Nico Rossi stepped in beside me, impeccably dressed in a charcoal suit, radiating quiet, unshakeable power. He looked down at Liam and Amber with the absolute, chilling indifference of a king looking at peasants who had wandered into the wrong throne room.
“Is everything alright here, Luna?” Nico asked, his deep baritone carrying easily across the immediate vicinity.
“Everything is perfect, Nico,” I smiled, leaning slightly against his side.
Liam swallowed hard, his eyes darting between his father and me, finally understanding the full, terrifying scope of what he had lost. Without another word, he grabbed Amber’s arm, and the two of them slunk out through the front doors, disappearing into the cold New York evening, entirely forgotten.
Nico watched them go, then turned his gaze back to me, a slow, appreciative smile warming his features.
“You handled that with remarkable grace,” he noted softly.
“Grace is much more effective than screaming,” I replied, raising my champagne flute.
Nico chuckled, clinking his glass against mine with a clear, resonant ring that cut through the murmur of the crowded room.
May you like
“To new beginnings,” he toasted quietly.
“To new beginnings,” I repeated, looking out over the roaring success of my gallery, knowing that the girl who had cried on her bedroom floor six months ago was gone forever. In her place stood a woman who owned her world, standing proudly beside the only man who was ever worthy of her side.
