The early wind was sharp and cold, pressing the fabric of my plain dress tightly against my legs.
I stared at the black car parked in front of me, my voice came out rough and faint when I asked, “The cemetery and the ceremony… Is everything really settled?”
Erving walked over and adjusted my scarf for me, his tone unnaturally gentle. “Don’t worry. Everything’s set. Today, we’re just meeting a few elders to go over the details and to thank your mother’s old friends. She deserves a dignified farewell.”
I clenched my fists and slid into the car without another word.
Outside the window, the scenery began to grow unfamiliar—quiet streets gave way to the glittering lights of the city center. We were moving farther and farther away from the direction of the cemetery.
A bad feeling surged through me. I was about to ask when the car came to a stop.
In front of me stood the massive glass façade of the New York County Museum of Art, its walls covered with a towering poster.
On it, Anya smiled radiantly in a flowing white dress. Behind her was the silhouette of that nude painting—the one that had destroyed my reputation. Printed below in bold letters were the words [Anya Heffernan Solo Exhibition].
“Erving!” My voice cracked as I turned to him in disbelief. “This isn’t the place for a funeral arrangement! You lied to me?!”
He unbuckled his seatbelt slowly, his earlier gentleness gone, leaving only a cold, matter-of-fact tone. “Anya’s exhibit is critical to her career. It could affect future business partnerships. You showing up would draw more attention.”
It felt like I’d just heard the cruelest joke in the world. Tears stung my eyes before I could stop them.
“Draw attention? You mean parading my humiliation for her benefit?” My voice shook. “You know damn well who she painted! My mother isn’t even buried yet, and you tricked me into attending the art exhibit of the woman who killed her?”
“Just shut up!” His brows furrowed, voice hardening as he grabbed my wrist. “I know what I’m doing with the funeral. Don’t make a scene here.”
His grip was painfully tight. I struggled, but he dragged me inside half by force.
The moment we stepped into the exhibition hall, the noise and flashing lights stung my eyes.
Anya approached at once, dressed in the same color palette as Erving, her skirt swaying gracefully. Her gaze carried a barely concealed triumph.