?Chapter 85:


    As soon as Ethan lifted the mic, silence swept through the room—every face turned toward him, expectant.


    Ethan drew in a slow, steadying breath before letting the words pour out. “A decade ago, I walked out of Ublento Art Academy as the top graduate. Rosa was my hero. I had big dreams, ready to shake up the art world—until that scumbag Luciano blindsided me. Luciano was nothing at the time. Just a glorified security guard at the academy, barely literate. But he conned his way into my life, got close to my sister, then kidnapped her and took disgusting, ckmail-worthy photos.”


    Ethan’s voice faltered, his jaw tense as he fought to keep hisposure.


    Gasps rippled through the crowd like a wave of disbelief.


    “Wait—Luciano was only a guard? No college degree at all?”


    “He kidnapped a girl? Took ckmail photos? That’s beyond messed up.”


    “And he fooled everyone into thinking he was a brilliant artist? What a sick fraud!”


    The color drained from Paige’s cheeks as the whispers closed in, her breath catching in her throat. She stood frozen, her mind reeling. The man she’d bowed to, ttered, and treated like a legend—just a damn security guard in disguise? The absurdity of it all mmed into her like a punch, and her face flushed hot with shame. Luciano had strung her along like some gullible fool, and now the world had front-row seats to her humiliation.


    Paige leveled a seething re at Luciano, jaw locked, every muscle in her face tight with fury.


    But Luciano wasn’t even looking her way—he was too busy calcting his escape, drowning in panic, and blind to the wreckage he’d left behind.


    Clement picked up on Luciano’s unease and discreetly motioned to security. Guards moved into position, sealing off every exit from the stage. Luciano was cornered, with nowhere left to run.


    Ethan took a breath to steady his voice and pressed on. “Luciano threatened to expose those photos unless I painted for him in secret. If I refused, he swore he’d leak them and destroy my sister’s future. She was only sixteen. I couldn’t let that happen. So I agreed. Every masterpiece he bragged about? That was my work. For a decade, I painted in the shadows while he soaked up the glory.”


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    I didn’t just paint while Luciano reaped the glory and rose through the ranks of the Calligraphers and Painters Association—he also tormented me behind the scenes, treating me like filth beneath his boots. What cut deeper than the abuse was how he twisted something sacred. He knew how much Rosa meant to me—how her brushwork shaped my own—and he faked devotion to her legacy just to cash in.


    Luciano didn’t just ruin my life—he dragged my sister down with me. Watching him exploit my idol for his dirty schemes made my skin crawl. I can’t stay silent any longer. Rosa’s paintings were the onlyfort I had in those bleak years—her art kept me breathing through night after night of despair.


    Atst, Elliana understood why Ethan had lingered near the livestream’s end, torn between speaking up and walking away. Ethan had probably seen Lonely Sunset and finally put the pieces together—she was Rosa. He’d nearly intended to confess everything but lost his nerve, still haunted by Luciano’s grip on him through those damning photos.


    Hearing Ethan say her art had saved him—it struck something tender and aching in Elliana’s heart.


    “You stayed silent for ten whole years. What changed today?” Elliana asked softly.


    Ethan stared at her, reverence clouded by sorrow in his gaze. “Because my sister just died.”


    “What?” Gasps rippled through the room. The crowd and everyone on stage froze—staggered, silent, devastated.


    Ethan’s voice cracked as he fought to keep it together. “Luciano’s kidnapping shattered her. After what he did with those photos, she was never the same. Her health spiraled. Then this morning, the doctor called. She didn’t make it.”


    “She…” Ethan copsed to his knees, shoulders heaving. “She would’ve turned twenty-six today.”


    Ethan’s wails echoed through the room, wrenching sobs from the crowd.


    “You monster, Luciano!” One man shot to his feet, seething, and hurled an object straight at Luciano.


    That broke the dam—outrage surged through the crowd as they flung anything within reach, their fury erupting in a storm of vengeance. Luciano scrambled across the stage, flinching and dodging like a cornered rat in a circus ring.


    Paige shrank into a corner as the uproar intensified. None of the flying objects were meant for her, yet the shame clung to her just as fiercely as it did to Luciano.


    “Please—everyone, calm down! I’ve already notified the police!” Clement’s voice boomed over the frenzy.


    Momentster, the police stormed in and escorted Luciano off the premises.


    The chaos subsided, but as thepetition resumed, all eyes turned on Paige—resentful, using. Just like that, she became the crowd’s new target.


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