Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Lucas
“I’ve got one more week to tie up loose ends before the Chagall Exhibit opens.” Ella stirred her coffee, her voice a mix of excitement and mild stress. The spoon clinked against the ceramic mug, a rhythmic melody complimenting the morning light filtering through the kitchen. She took a slow breath, exhaling with a sigh. “It feels like there’s still so much to do.”
I leaned back in my chair, cradling my own mug, captivated by the passion in her eyes. “You’ll pull it off.”
She glanced up, lips quirking into a soft smile. “How would you know? You haven’t seen me in full panic mode yet.”
“I don’t need to. You’ve got that ‘calm under pressure’ thing down.”
She let out a light laugh, shaking her head. “That’s just what it looks like on the outside. Beneath all this is a woman drowning in to-do lists.”
“Still,” I said, setting my mug down, “I’d bet on you.”
She paused, her hand resting on the table. “Thanks,” she said softly, the weight of the word lingering between us.
The quiet hum of the kitchen filled the space until the clock reminded me I needed to go. “Lopez is expecting me at nine,” I said, pushing back my chair.
Ella rinsed her mug, turning with a knowing look. “I’m glad your attorney could see you so soon.”
“Yeah. There’s a lot to figure out—the gallery, everything.”
She stepped closer, resting a hand on my arm. “You’ll find a way, Lucas. You always do.”
Her belief in me hit deep. I swallowed hard. “You have no idea how much that means to me.”
As I reached the door, I hesitated, glancing down at my casual outfit. “I’ve got a suit in the car. I’ll change before I head over.”
She crossed her arms, smirking. “What exactly did you manage to fit in your car?”
“Only the essentials—clothes, shoes, and the art.”
She laughed, warm and easy, and I leaned in to kiss her. “I’ll stop by the museum at lunch,” I murmured against her lips.
“I’ll be there,” she promised. “We can eat in the café.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
I quickly changed into a suit and stepped outside into the bright sunlight. As I adjusted my cuffs, I glanced back and saw Ella watching me, her coffee mug in hand, a small, approving grin on her lips. Knowing she was in my corner made the weight on my shoulders feel a little lighter.
I had barely pulled onto the main road when my phone buzzed. Gabrielle’s name flashed on the screen. I sighed but answered, sensing this wasn’t just a casual check-in.
“Gabrielle, what’s going on?”
“Lucas,” she said quickly, her voice tight with worry. “I’m sorry to bother you, but can you come by the gallery? It’s the security system. It’s time to reset the codes, but I don’t have the authority.”
I gripped the wheel tighter. “You can’t get my father to do it?”
“That’s just it,” she said, her voice dropping. “I’ve been calling him all morning, and he’s not answering. The news said they were questioning him, but… what if they arrested him? What do I do?”
Her words hit me hard. The possibility of Dad being arrested wasn’t just looming—it was real. And Gabrielle was caught in the middle.
“I’ll find out more once I speak to my attorney,” I assured her.
“Okay,” she said hesitantly. “But what about the codes? Can you help?”
I hesitated. “Gabrielle, I don’t think I can. He cut me out of the trust. My access might already be revoked.”
She was silent for a moment before speaking again. “I’m not sure you’ve really been cut out. At least, not yet.”
“What do you mean?”
“A few days ago, I overheard Alistair talking to his attorney,” she admitted. “He was pushing to remove you from the trust, but the attorney told him to hold off. Said it would raise too many questions if he did it without cause.”
Of course, my father would try to erase me from the business on a whim. And naturally, he wouldn’t admit his real reason—because I wasn’t on board with the family’s secrets.
“Are you sure?” I asked, jaw tightening.
“Yes,” Gabrielle said firmly. “The attorney wasn’t convinced it was a good move.”
“That doesn’t mean he didn’t do it anyway,” I muttered, though her words gave me a sliver of hope. “Thanks for telling me. I’ll check with my own lawyer.”
“Okay,” she said. “But Lucas, if they do arrest him, I’m not sure I can keep the gallery running on my own.”
“You won’t have to,” I said firmly. “If it comes to that, we’ll figure something out.”
“Alright,” she said softly. “Good luck, Lucas.”
I ended the call and tossed my phone onto the passenger seat, my mind racing. Dad’s games, the gallery’s uncertain future, Gabrielle’s concerns—it was all spiraling fast. And I was the one left to pick up the pieces.
When I stepped into Lopez’s office, he looked up from his desk, his expression professional and businesslike. “Lucas,” he said. “You look like hell. What is going on with you?”
“Thanks,” I muttered, collapsing into the chair across from Lopez. “I’ve been trying to reach my father all morning— voicemail every time. Gabrielle’s panicking, the gallery’s security needs an update, and I have no idea what to tell her.”
Lopez tapped his pen against the desk. “Let’s cut to the chase. You want to know what’s happening with your father.”
“Exactly,” I said. “If he’s arrested, I need to know. If not, he needs to answer our calls.”
Lopez didn’t waste time. He picked up the phone and dialed from memory. “Frank Curtain’s office, please,” he said, glancing at me as he waited. After a brief exchange, his expression hardened.
“He’s been charged,” Lopez said. “They’re holding him for selling stolen art. Arraignment is in two days.”
I swallowed hard. I had expected it, but hearing it out loud made it real. “And me?”
“Nothing yet,” Lopez said. “They haven’t questioned you, but that doesn’t mean they won’t.”
I shifted, my mind already moving to the next problem. “The gallery—if my father actually cut me out of the trust, Gabrielle can’t handle it alone. If I’m still listed, I need to step in.”
“I’ll look into it,” Lopez said. “For now, act as if you’re in charge. Don’t make drastic changes until we confirm, but go ahead and help Gabrielle reset the codes.”
His pen tapped the desk. “Do you know anything about the stolen art, Lucas? Be honest.”
I hesitated, then admitted, “There were rumors. Between my father and grandfather. Nothing concrete, but… yeah, I think it’s true.”
Lopez’s face darkened. “Keep that to yourself for now. Don’t mention it to the DA or anyone at the gallery. We need to see how the prosecution plays this.”
I nodded. “Understood.”
I hesitated before adding, “There’s one more thing—my father broke my lease. I need a place to stay. You know anyone renting something cheap?”
Lopez studied me. “Cheap, huh?”
I shrugged. “Four walls and a roof. Anything else is a bonus.”
He chuckled and pulled a key from his desk. “I’ve got an apartment over my garage. Small but clean. Rent’s cheap—hell, we’ll call it a favor for now.” He tossed the key to me.
I caught it midair, surprised. “Thanks, Juan. I’ll pay you as soon as I get things sorted.”
“Don’t sweat it,” he said. “Just keep your head on straight. You’ve got enough to handle without worrying about where to sleep.”
I nodded, gripping the key tightly. “I owe you one.”
I left Lopez’s office with a key in my pocket and more on my mind than when I walked in. My father’s arrest wasn’t a shock, but hearing the charges—selling stolen art—made it real. The words echoed in my head, heavier with each repetition.
As I stepped onto the street, the morning sun felt too bright for my mood. People rushed past, caught up in their own lives, oblivious to the chaos unraveling in mine. Sliding into my car, I gripped the wheel and exhaled slowly.
Lopez’s warning played in my mind. Stay quiet. Let him handle it. Sound advice—but easier said than done.
The gallery was on shaky ground. Gabrielle was holding things together, but without clarity on my role, we were navigating blindly. And then there was Ella.
As I drove to the museum, my thoughts drifted to her, as they often did. She was steady and grounded—the kind of person who could handle chaos with grace. I wanted to tell her everything: about my father, the vault, and the trust. But Lopez was right. The more she knew, the more it would put her at risk.
Still, keeping secrets felt like a betrayal.
By the time I reached the museum, my mind was no clearer. But one thing was certain—I needed Ella. Even if I couldn’t tell her everything, being with her made the weight bearable.
A florist cart caught my eye as I parked. A riot of colors—roses, lilies, sunflowers. Something about them reminded me of her: vibrant and full of life.
“Can I help you?” the vendor asked with a friendly smile.
I scanned the bouquets and landed on one with pale pink roses and white lilies. Simple, beautiful. “That one.”
She wrapped it in tissue paper, tying it with a ribbon before handing it over. As I took the bouquet, some of the tension in my chest eased.
Ella deserved something good—something bright—even if I wasn’t sure how much of that I could be for her.
With the bouquet in hand, I texted her:
Lucas: On my way. Hope you’re hungry?—
Sliding into the driver’s seat, I set the bouquet beside me. For the first time all day, something felt right.