Scott’s expression faltered for a moment.
I remembered a time when we were out for dinner, and one of his long-time fans spotted us.
He had been quick to clarify then, “Just friends!”
I was just mimicking his past behavior. There’s no need to make a fuss.
With a wave of complex cases, Sheriff Chase ordered me to work through my injury.
Each day was consumed by sifting through case files and analyzing evidence.
The only respite came during meals.
“Wow, this artist is incredibly gifted. At such a young age, he’s already made a significant mark in the art world.”
“I had no idea he and his girlfriend were college sweethearts. That’s such a juicy detail! I’ll show this to my wife and see if it curbs her habit of buying his paintings now that their relationship is public.”
I glanced at the screen, where Scott’s art exhibition was being live-streamed. His works were selling like hotcakes.
Towards the end, Hannah appeared on stage holding a painting.
The piece depicted a serene moonlit scene, with a young woman, almost angelic, gazing at a white gardenia in the painting.
The title read “Love.”
The crowd was captivated, eagerly bidding on the painting.
But Hannah simply smiled and looked affectionately at Scott.
“Not for sale, no amount of money can buy it!”
The livestream went wild, with people speculating about Hannah’s identity.
Soon, the news of the artist’s relationship was trending.
I glanced down at my meal and smiled quietly to myself.
After all, these sentimental paintings couldn’t compare to the real value of my work: giving a voice to the voiceless and seeking justice for the dead!
Hannah updated her social media with a new post:
“From now on, no matter how high the mountains or how long the roads, you’ll always be my warm harbor. That’s what love must mean!”
I deleted Hannah’s account without a second thought.
Late that night, Scott called me.
“Lillian, where are you? Why aren’t you home yet?”
