Chapter 1
Ten Years Ago
The tension hung in the room where multiple important faces were staring angrily at one man who looked so kind and polite.
They looked like a pack of hungry wolves that were ready to destroy the man at any moment.
The silence was heavier than their words. These people didn’t have mercy or respect for the law.
They had two things: money and power. Two things that made them bow to even kings and presidents when they met them. These six families didn’t play around.
They never took “no” for an answer. As the main angry man kept telling all his victims, “I don’t take no for an answer, I take only yes, sir, or yes, master”.
Their disgustingly expensive outfits and colognes that could save a whole country from hunger would put any person in a position from which they wouldn’t come out ever again.
An angry man stood up and walked toward the only ordinary man and spoke rudely.
“I repeat it for the last time. Give up that house and leave. We will give you another house somewhere else. We need that land.”
“You might give me a new place, but I can’t replace the memories of my childhood or my kids’ childhood”.
The angry man looked down from his glasses, turned back to his friend,s and they all started laughing loudly like bullies at school.
“Let me tell you this way, if you don’t leave that house, you will become another memory for your kids. Is that what you want?”
The humble man kept his head down without an answer.
The angry man threw his hands into the air as a sign of giving up on this conversation and walked back to his seat.
“The Palmarian is only for real royalties. How can such a dirty and useless family live there next to mine?” Said one of them.
“That house I got from my grandfather, even before you all moved in.” Said the humble man, angrily looking up from his head kept down position, showing his anger like a real panther that was ready to rip them into pieces.
“Are you saying that you’re a native Palmarian?” Asks the other one sarcastically, and everyone laughs except the humble man.
“Listen, Gary man, you must live, otherwise I’ll burn your wife and kids in that house as well. Is that what you ask for?”
“His wife is already dead. How many times are you going to kill her?” Asks the fifth person, and they all laugh even harder.
After such a comment, the humble man jumps out of his seat and attacks the man who just made such a dark joke.
He kept his teeth close enough to his ear, getting ready to rip it off when the bodyguards took him away, threw him on the ground, and kept kicking his ribs until the leader raised his hand to stop them.
“I won’t kill you tonight, because it might upset Rosie. But if you keep living in that house, I’ll make sure Rosie goes with you as well. Anyway, I’m young enough to have another daughter.”
Everyone kept laughing chorally at something that a morally upright person would feel ashamed of.
“You have ten days to get the fuck out of that house.” The man said this and stood up to leave.
“One more thing.” He turned back to face the man on the ground, who was curled up because of pain.
“Tell your broken son to stay away from Rosie. My stepdaughter can’t have a deaf and useless friend, I won’t even mention the boyfriend thing.”
“God sees everything, Leo. You won’t enjoy your money. You’ll die just like any of them in this room. Alone and in pain.”
Leo raised his left eyebrow, looked at Gary for a second, then looked up to the other men who were surrounding Gary and smiled.
“You’re funny, Gary. I didn’t know you had such a big imagination. Legends like me never die.”
Saying that, he turned and left the room. His bodyguards followed him, and then the leader of his security walked him closer.
“Surround his house with enough poison. Make sure he won’t come out of that fire ever again.”
“Got it, sir.” Nodding his head accepted the command and walked more slowly to follow his master like a puppy dog.
His wife walked toward him with a smile on his face.
“Did you make him sign the papers?”
“Ten days. In ten days, I will get the land that I wanted.” He said proudly.
“We need to tell Rosie. She needs to know the truth.” She said worriedly.
“About what? That her father was killed by her own mother?” She was quiet, head down.
“Tell Rosie to stay away from that dysfunctional thing. I still can’t understand what she found in him.”
“Leo, they’re just kids.”
“She is not just a random kid. She’s a Bergstromm. She is royalty to everyone. And if she doesn’t know how to choose her circle, I will do it for her.”
“I will talk to her. Don’t do anything.” Said Lilly, assuring him that she got it. She was ready to leave when Leo’s words froze her in her spot.
“If I see her with him again, I’ll make sure those flames wash you and her as well. Who knows,s maybe in your next life you’ll have more brain and will choose wisely.”
“You’re right. I should’ve chosen wisely. IfI hade done it earlier, all this mess wouldn’t happen and you wouldn’t be standing here.”
While getting that heavy speech off of her chest, Lily felt a tight grip on her hair that threw her to the ground, and Leo kept dragging her on the floor a few steps away from the stairs and started kicking her weak and skinny body with his shiny shoes.
She coughed up blood, and it dropped on his shoes; only then did he stop looking at her angrily.
“Clean this up.” He put his shoe closer to her mouth. She cleaned it with her own palms to shine while scared and ashamed, looking around. All those men were standing and enjoying the view asif it were some nice opera or ballet performance, she kept searching familiar eyes until she met Rosie’s.
“Hide.” She said out of shame.
Rosie hid behind the wall, covering her mouth and eyes in disbelief at what she just heard. Was her mother the reason for her dad’s tragic end?
I have always loved morning scents—the kind that awaken not only the mind but the soul. Especially the mornings that follow a heavy rain. The strong, earthy aroma of damp soil and freshly cut grass makes you feel closer to nature, closer to the things you often keep at a distance.
I wish I could stay in bed a little longer in this late-autumn chill. Unfortunately, duty calls.
I slip into my new denim dress, pull on my brown jacket, and prepare to leave when my phone rings. A call I’ve been waiting for months. As an unfamiliar country code lights up the screen, I swallow hard, hoping this is the agent—and not a family member.
“Hello?” I answer, already bracing myself.
“Good morning, Ms. Parker. This is Edmond speaking. I’m Mr. K’s assistant.”
My breath catches. “Nice to meet you,” I reply, carefully masking my excitement.
“The pleasure is mine. Mr. K has reviewed your offer and is interested. Would you be able to fly to Milan in the coming week? Or perhaps we could meet in New York?”
My heart stops. It’s happening.
“I can come anywhere,” I say without hesitation. “Just tell me the time and place, and I’ll be there.”
“How about next week in New York? Mr. K would prefer to meet you in person.”
My heart sinks as quickly as it had soared. If I’m not mistaken, I might be the first person to ever meet him face-to-face. He has never attended meetings or appeared in public. Some people even believe Mr. K isn’t a man at all.
“Perfect,” Edmond continues. “Send me your flight details. My driver will pick you up, and I will personally arrange your hotel.”
“That’s very kind of you,” I say, my thoughts already spinning. “But it won’t be necessary. I’ll take care of it.”
To be honest, I barely remember the rest of the conversation. The moment he confirmed New York, everything else blurred.
My goal has always been clear: to acquire the one piece the entire art world whispers about—the sculpture no one has ever seen.
I make it back to the office as quickly as possible.
I hardly remember the drive. The city rushes past me, restless and loud, echoing the chaos in my head. By the time I push through the glass doors, my heart is still racing, my hands trembling just enough to betray me.
The office smells of coffee and paper—familiar, grounding. My team is scattered across the room: some hunched over desks, others quietly debating measurements and deadlines. No one notices me at first.
I pause, watching them. These are the people who stayed through unanswered emails, polite rejections, and months of silence. The ones who believed when belief felt unreasonable.
I clear my throat.
Heads lift. Chairs turn.
“Can I have everyone’s attention for a moment?” My voice sounds steadier than I feel.
They gather instinctively, forming a loose circle. Curiosity flickers across their faces—hopeful, cautious. They’ve learned not to expect miracles.
“We got a call this morning.”
One of them smiles. Another crosses their arms, bracing.
“Mr. K’s assistant called me.”
The silence is immediate.
“You’re joking,” someone whispers.
“I’m not.” I can’t stop smiling now. “He’s interested. He wants to meet next week. In New York.”
For a moment, no one moves. Then the room erupts.
Voices overlap. Someone laughs. Someone swears. A chair scrapes loudly as someone stands too fast.
“Mr. K?” The Mr. K? “The one who’s never been seen?”
I nod. “That one.”
Disbelief slowly gives way to something brighter—relief, pride, vindication. My chest tightens. This isn’t just my win. It’s theirs.
“We’re really doing this,” I say quietly. “This could change everything.”
“Then we need to be perfect,” someone says, clapping their hands together.
“Yes,” I agree. “We need to be ready.”
As they disperse, already arguing over logistics and presentation details, I remain where I am, letting the noise wash over me. Somewhere between the coffee-stained tables and unfinished sketches, it finally sinks in.
I’m going to meet the most elusive artist in the world.
And nothing—absolutely nothing—will be the same after that.
Later that evening, when I enter my room, a sound freezes me in place. My old phone—the one I haven’t touched in nearly ten years—lights up with reminders.
The day that changed everything.
Is today the day I return to that place? To stand where everything collapsed and mourn feelings I’ve kept buried for a decade? Or am I going there hoping—quietly, foolishly—to see him again?
The screen reads: March 19 — Memorial Day.
At the same moment, my current phone vibrates.
We will see you on March 19 at 15:00 at your office. Best regards, Edmond.
The same day. Two moments pulling me in opposite directions.
The past I’ve clung to for ten years. Or a future that could open every door I’ve fought for.
Maybe I need to be honest with myself.
Will I see him again?
