Chapter 6

The art gallery was a stark, white space filled with the self-important chatter of the city's art scene. Case kept a tight grip on my arm, steering me through the crowd. My feet felt like lead.

And then I saw it.

It was a huge canvas, a chaotic swirl of black and gray. From a distance, it looked like a storm. Up close, I could see the texture, the grit. It was a piece I had designed years ago in a fever dream, a digital sketch I had titled 'Father's Fury.' A tribute to his strength. And the signature in the bottom corner was not mine. It was Blair Kelley's.

"Aaliyah! You came!"

Blair glided toward us, a triumphant smile on her face. She looked radiant, alive. "Thank you so much for the inspiration. I couldn't have done it without you. Or your father."

The last three words were a whisper, meant only for me.

"This is my work," I said, my voice shaking with a rage that was terrifyingly cold. "You stole this from me."

Case's grip on my arm tightened. "Aaliyah, don't make a scene. Blair was inspired by your early concepts. It's an homage."

"The signature says 'Blair Kelley'," I shot back, pointing a trembling finger at the canvas. "It doesn't say 'homage'."

Blair's eyes welled up with crocodile tears. "I just wanted to... to honor you both." She swayed, placing a hand on her forehead. "I feel faint."

Case immediately let go of me and rushed to her side. "Blair! Are you alright?"

She leaned against him, her body limp. "She's just so aggressive. I think she pushed me."

It was a blatant lie. I hadn't moved. But in Case's eyes, I was already guilty.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" he hissed at me, his face contorted in a mask of fury. He scooped Blair into his arms, cradling her like a precious, fragile doll. "She's an artist. She's sensitive! You're just a bitter, washed-up criminal."

He barked an order at two burly security guards. "Get her out of my sight. Lock her in the back office until she calms down."

I didn't resist as they dragged me away. I was beyond fighting. They shoved me into a small, windowless room and locked the door. It was cold. Freezing. I realized it was a cold storage room for preserving delicate artworks. The temperature was set to near-zero.

He was punishing me.

I banged on the door, my voice hoarse. "Let me out! Case, please!"

No one answered. The cold seeped into my bones, and I started to shiver violently. My body, already weakened by cancer and malnutrition, couldn't handle it. My consciousness began to fade.

The lock clicked. The door swung open. It wasn't Case. It was Blair.

She stood there, a smug, victorious smile on her face. In her hand, she held a lighter.

"You know," she said, her voice a soft, venomous caress, "I was going to let you just freeze in here. But this is so much more fitting."

She flicked the lighter on. The small flame danced in her eyes. "This piece is called 'Father's Fury.' Let's see how he burns."

She tossed the lighter onto the canvas.

The specially treated paint and medium-my father's ashes-erupted in an unnatural, chemical-fueled inferno. The fire spread with terrifying speed, consuming the canvas, consuming the room.

"NO!" A scream tore from my throat.

I didn't think. I lunged forward, into the flames, trying to beat out the fire with my bare hands. The heat was searing, the pain excruciating, but I didn't care. That was my father.

Blair shrieked, stumbling backward. "She's crazy! She's trying to kill me!" she screamed as Case and the guards rushed back in.

"Aaliyah!" Case roared, pulling me from the fire. He didn't look at my burned hands, at my smoke-filled lungs. He only had eyes for Blair, who was now sobbing hysterically.

"She set the fire! She attacked me!" Blair cried, pointing a trembling finger at me.

Case shoved me to the ground. "You're insane," he snarled, his eyes filled with a hatred so pure it stole my breath. "You just can't stand to see anyone else succeed."

"The ashes..." I choked, trying to get up. "The water... put out the fire..."

My hands were a mess of raw, blistered skin. The pain was a distant, secondary sensation to the agony in my heart.

"You're still acting?" Case sneered, turning his back on me to comfort Blair. "You are truly unrepentant."

The room was filling with thick, black smoke. The fire alarms blared. But all I could see was the last piece of my father turning to black, meaningless dust.