Gemotions

The gallery was packed, a sea of chattering faces and clinking champagne flutes. Elara, clutching her phone like a lifeline, scanned the room. Her breath hitched. There, hanging on the largest wall, was "Crimson Dawn," her most personal piece. A piece she’d locked away in her attic, too vulnerable to share. Her hand flew to her mouth. Had someone broken in? Stolen it?

A woman in a velvet dress approached, beaming. “Darling, your work is simply breathtaking! The way you capture the light…” She trailed off, offering a hand. “I’m Beatrice, the curator. We’re so delighted to have you.” Elara's mind reeled. Delight? She stammered, “I… I didn’t authorize this.”

Her pulse hammered in her ears. She felt a cold sweat prickle her skin. This had to be a mistake, a terrible, bewildering blunder.