WebNovels

Chapter 2 - Chapter 2: The Livelihood Crumbles

Two weeks later, Solrine walked into the gallery with her usual Tuesday morning coffee, humming under her breath. The initial media frenzy had died down just as she'd predicted. The gossip sites had moved on to a senator's divorce scandal, and her phone had finally stopped buzzing with reporter calls.

"See?" she'd told her friends over drinks the night before. "I told you it would blow over."

She pushed through the glass doors of Meridian Gallery, nodding at the security guard who'd worked there longer than she had.

"Morning, Carlos."

He didn't meet her eyes. "Ms. Cavaliere."

Strange. But she shrugged it off and headed to the elevator.

The gallery floor was quieter than usual. Her assistant, Jamie, wasn't at the front desk. The interns who usually clustered around the coffee station were nowhere to be seen.

Solrine checked her watch. 9:15 AM. Everyone should be here by now.

She made her way to her office, pushing open the door to find Margaret Chen, the gallery director, sitting behind her desk.

"Margaret? What are you doing in my office?"

Margaret stood, smoothing her pencil skirt. Her expression was carefully neutral—never a good sign. "Solrine. Please, sit down."

"I'll stand, thanks. What's going on?"

"The board met yesterday evening."

Ice formed in Solrine's stomach. "And?"

"I'm sorry, Solrine. We have to let you go."

The words hit like a physical blow. Solrine gripped the doorframe. "You're firing me? Over a two-week-old scandal that nobody even cares about anymore?"

"It's not that simple—"

"It's exactly that simple." Heat flooded Solrine's chest, burning away the shock. "You're firing me because I had sex with my boyfriend and someone posted it online. That's it, isn't it?"

Margaret sighed. "Three major donors have threatened to pull their funding if you remain on staff. The Hendersons, the Blackwood Foundation, and Sterling Industries. That's nearly thirty percent of our annual budget."

"So you're choosing money over doing what's right."

"I'm choosing to keep this gallery operational so that fifty other employees don't lose their jobs." Margaret's voice sharpened. "This was not an easy decision, Solrine. You're talented, and under different circumstances—"

"Save it." Solrine's voice turned to steel. "What about my exhibition next month? The Ramirez collection took me six months to curate."

"James will take over your projects."

"James?" Solrine laughed bitterly. "James couldn't curate a grocery list without supervision."

"That's enough." Margaret stood straighter, reclaiming authority. "Security will escort you out. Your personal items will be packed and delivered to your apartment."

The humiliation burned through her like acid. "Security escort? Are you serious?"

"It's standard procedure for all terminations."

"Standard procedure." Solrine repeated the words slowly, tasting their corporate emptiness. "Right. Because I'm such a security risk now."

She turned on her heel and walked out, her heels clicking against the polished floor. The few staff members in the hallway suddenly found their shoes fascinating.

Carlos was waiting by the elevator, looking uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Cavaliere. I have to walk you out."

"I know, Carlos. You're just doing your job."

The elevator ride down felt endless. In the lobby, a few visitors turned to stare, recognizing her from the news. She kept her chin up, shoulders straight.

Outside on the sidewalk, the morning sun felt too bright, the traffic too loud. She stood there for a moment, briefcase in hand, watching people hurry past on their way to jobs they still had.

Her phone rang. Mom.

"Solrine, honey, I just heard from Margaret's assistant. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

"You don't sound fine."

Solrine pressed her fingers to her temples. "I will be fine. I just... I need to process this."

"Come home. Let me make you lunch."

"No, I... I think I need to be alone right now."

"Solrine—"

"Mom, please. Just give me some space to figure this out."

A pause. "Okay. But call me later, all right? Promise me."

"I promise."

Solrine hung up and stood on the sidewalk, watching her former life through the gallery's glass windows. Margaret was already showing someone around—probably her replacement.

For the first time since the scandal broke, doubt crept in. Maybe her friends had been right. Maybe her defiance had been stupidity dressed up as principles.

Her phone buzzed with a text from Nova: *Heard about the gallery. Coming over with wine and tissues.*

Then Aria: *Those bastards don't deserve you. We're having an emergency girls' night.*

Remi: *Want me to slash Margaret's tires? I know people.*

Despite everything, Solrine felt a flicker of her old fire returning. The gallery didn't deserve her anyway.

Her phone buzzed with a text from Nova: *Heard about the gallery. Coming over with wine and tissues.*

Then Aria: *Those bastards don't deserve you. We're having an emergency girls' night.*

Remi: *Want me to slash Margaret's tires? I know people.*

But for the first time since this nightmare started, Solrine wasn't thinking about her friends' support or her mother's lectures or Margaret's corporate cowardice.

She was thinking about revenge.

"Now I care," she said aloud, standing on the sidewalk as people hurried past. "Now I'll find who did this."

David. It had to be David. Who else had access to that video? Who else would be vindictive enough to destroy her life just because she wouldn't take him back?

She pulled out her phone and started scrolling through her contacts. Time to do some investigating.

The real question wasn't what came next anymore.

The real question was: where was David right now, and how was she going to make him pay?

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