“The Warwick family and the Whitakers-now that’s a powerhouse alliance if I ever saw one.”

Elodie raised her brows in mild surprise. No wonder the exhibition had such a high bar for entry. The Warwick name alone opened doors, and then there was the Whitaker network on top of that. Clearly, this wasn’t the kind of event just anyone could waltz into. Even Jarrod showing up made sense now.

After finishing their tour of the first floor, Elodie and Esmeralda ascended the stairs to the second. Each gallery space had its own distinct style, a dazzling array of art on display. Elodie had always been interested in art-her mother worked in the field, after all, and she’d grown up surrounded by sketches, canvases, and the gentle scent of turpentine.

But as she wandered through the rooms on both floors, she saw nothing of her mother’s work. Disappointment settled quietly in her chest.

“These paintings aren’t for sale, are they?” Elodie asked.

Esmeralda—always in the know-shook her head immediately. “Nope. The Warwick collection is basically Mr. Warwick’s personal passion project. Plus, he’s devoted an entire section to his grandfather Raleigh’s calligraphy. Really, this whole event is just an elegant excuse to expand his social circle.”

That left Elodie uneasy. If she did spot her mother’s painting here, how would she even begin to reclaim it?

They made their way up to the third floor.

Almost at once, Elodie’s gaze was drawn to a painting that resonated with her. She lingered before it, captivated, but since nothing here was for sale, all she could do was move on.

Just as she turned away, she heard Sylvie’s voice from behind. “Jarrod, don’t you think this painting is fascinating?”

Elodie glanced over her shoulder. Sylvie was looking at the very same piece.

Jarrod leaned down to reply, “If you like it, I can take you abroad to track down the artist and buy a few more.”

Sylvie smiled prettily. “Thank you, but wouldn’t that be too much trouble?”

“Not at all.”

Elodie paused for the briefest moment before quietly turning away. She’d seen firsthand how attentive Jarrod was to Sylvie he never overlooked her wishes, always making sure she got what she wanted. If Sylvie liked a painting, Jarrod would find a way to buy her several more. But Elodie could only stand by, longing for something she could never have.

That was the difference.

As she made her way back through the gallery, heading to meet up with Esmeralda, Elodie kept scanning the walls, searching for any sign that might point back to her mother’s missing work.

And then, finally her eyes caught on a canvas tucked in the corner.

Her breath caught in her throat. Up close, the painting’s style, colors, and brushwork were nearly identical to the piece that had once hung at Fairview University: the missing half of her mother’s work.

Without hesitation, Elodie sought out the manager on the third floor.

“Excuse me,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady, “I’m very interested in this painting. Would Mr. Warwick consider letting it go?”

She hoped the manager could at least put her in touch with Elias, the man behind the exhibition.

But the reply was immediate and firm. “I’m sorry, ma’am. The works are on display only today, not for sale.”

Elodie’s anxiety rose; she was about to plead her case when Grady and his friends appeared, overhearing her offer. Grady let out a mocking laugh. “Ms. Thorne, you must think this is a flea market. Did you really expect to haggle here? Didn’t you read the rules?”

Elodie looked up. It wasn’t just Grady and Naylor. Jarrod and Sylvie were approaching as well.

Pressing her lips together, Elodie forced herself to remain calm. “I have a reason for asking. I’ve been searching for a painting my mother lost years ago, and this one looks remarkably similar. That’s why I hoped we might come to some arrangement.”

The manager hesitated, clearly unsure.

Just then, Sylvie let out a soft, almost amused laugh.

“I can understand how you feel,” she said, her gaze flickering with a hint of condescension. “But…”

“I’m afraid you must be mistaken. This painting was done by my mother, Ms. Thorne, so let’s not jump to conclusions.”