Chapter 9 The Gallery At Midnight

The private gallery sat beneath the villa like a secret no one spoke of. There was no sign. No map. Just a long, narrow corridor hidden behind a false panel near the library-revealed only when you pulled the bronze bust of some long-dead general just right. Ava found it at 11:58 p.m. The hallway was dim, the marble cool beneath her heels. The deeper she walked, the quieter the air became-like the world above didn't exist here. When she reached the door, it opened before she could knock. Kai was already waiting. Black-on-black suit. No tie. Shirt unbuttoned at the throat.

His expression unreadable. "Come in," he said. She stepped inside. And froze. The room was massive. Stone and glass and velvet shadows. The walls were covered in paintings-none of them familiar. Most were surreal. Distorted. Violent. One canvas was just black scratches over a stormy red. It felt like walking into someone's fever dream. Or trauma. "Victor collects pain," Kai said from behind her. "Art that reflects what people try to hide." She turned slowly. "Why here?" "Because this is where no one listens. Not even him." --- He led her to the center of the room, where a single velvet bench sat beneath a chandelier of shattered mirrors. There was a folder already placed on it. Ava picked it up. Inside: photos. Of her. On flights. In lobbies. At her old apartment in L.A. Surveillance shots. She went cold. "These were taken before I got here." Kai nodded. "He's been watching you for months." "Why?" "Because you weren't his first pick." She looked up, heart thudding. "Excuse me?" He stepped closer. "Victor planned to use someone else. A woman named Rhea Voss." "I've never heard of her." "You wouldn't. She's dead." The silence that followed was like glass shattering in slow motion. Ava's fingers tightened around the folder. "Dead... how?" "Plane crash. Three weeks before you were contacted." Her mind raced. That call she got from the agency. The sudden opportunity. The way the job was pushed onto her with almost no interview. It wasn't luck. It was replacement. "Jesus," she whispered. "You're saying I was plan B." "No," Kai said gently. "You were plan A... after plan A failed." She looked at him, voice hoarse. "Why are you showing me this?" He met her eyes. "Because Victor's testing you. And you need to decide now-are you going to play on his terms... or mine?" --- She didn't answer right away. Instead, she walked the gallery slowly, photos still in hand. Her heart was pounding. Her palms were cold. But her mind-her mind was razor sharp. Kai watched her like he was memorizing the moment. "This isn't just about power," she finally said. "It's personal." He nodded once. "Victor destroyed my mother. Left her with nothing. She died sick, alone, and terrified of him. And he never paid for it." "And the business?" Kai's voice dropped. "It's just a vehicle. What I want is leverage." Ava stared at the art on the wall. The pain. The chaos. The rage. It mirrored everything she'd been ignoring in herself for years. She turned back to him. "If I say yes... if I choose your side..." "You're already on it," he said. --- They didn't kiss. Not yet. But when he stepped closer and reached for her hand, she didn't pull away. His fingers were rougher than she expected. Warm. Real. "Everything changes now," he murmured. She nodded. Because it already had. --- By the time Ava returned to her suite, the folder was gone. Her bed turned down. Her wine glass refilled. And on her pillow, another card. This time with Victor's handwriting: > "We should talk. You and I. No rings. No shadows. Just truth." Tomorrow. Noon. The cellar. Come alone. Ava stared at it for a long time. And smiled. Because for the first time since she landed on this goddamn island- She wasn't afraid. She was ready.