A single line of text appeared from an unlisted number: *The audit begins on Friday morning.*

That gave me exactly three days.

“We need to move the exhibition up,” I said, looking directly at Marcus.

He frowned, stepping closer to the raw canvas.

“To when?” he asked.

“Thursday night,” I said. “The evening before the board vote.”

Marcus stared at me, his brow furrowing in the harsh light.

“An exclusive, unannounced pop-up,” he murmured, thinking it through.

“Exactly,” I said. “Only thirty invitations.”

“Who is on the list?” he asked.

“The executive board of Hayes Enterprises,” I said.

“And Clara Bennett?”

“She will be the guest of honor,” I said.

Marcus wiped a smudge of dust from his sleeve.

“And Daniel?” he asked softly.

“Daniel will come because he cannot afford to stay away,” I replied.

I walked over to the wall where three finished canvases hung.

The first was a stark, monochromatic piece showing two figures dividing a shadow.

One figure had Clara’s sharp jawline; the other had Daniel’s broad shoulders.

Between them lay a fractured ledger, its pages painted with real corporate routing numbers I had memorized from Daniel’s private study.