Harlow Sinclair -POV
I practiced lying to Julian for forty-five minutes before realizing I'd been lying to him for seven years. I just didn't know it.
Marlowe woke me at 5:30 AM in his warehouse. I'd fallen asleep on his couch around three. No pillow. No blanket. He didn't seem to care.
"Get up. We're rehearsing."
He'd arranged forgeries on every table. Two dozen at least. The cold hit me the moment I stood. Made my teeth chatter.
"Why did you miss the viewing?" Marlowe's voice shifted. Became smoother. Julian's cadence.
"Food poisoning. I'm sorry. It won't happen again."
"You sound guilty. Try again."
"Food poisoning. Bad sushi. I felt terrible about it."
"Worse. You're performing apology. He doesn't want performance. He wants you desperate for his approval."
I wanted to throw something at him. Tried again instead.
And again.
And again.
By the time he nodded, my throat was raw. "Better. You're not pretending to love him. You're pretending you still believe everything he told you about yourself."
Now I stood outside Julian's gallery at 11:47 AM. My reflection in the glass looked wrong. Short hair. No makeup. But I'd changed into the clothes Julian liked. Pencil skirt. Silk blouse. Trying to look like his version of me.
I walked in at exactly noon.
"Harlow." He stood. Smiled. The smile stopped at his mouth. "You look different."
My hand went to my hair before I could stop it. "Needed a change."
"It's very severe." He studied me too long. "Are you feeling better?"
"Yes. I'm so sorry about yesterday. Bad sushi. I was sick all night."
Julian gestured to the chair. I sat. His office was warm but I was freezing. Three forgeries on the walls. My body screaming.
"Viktor Volkov was disappointed," Julian said. "He doesn't appreciate wasted time."
"I know. I'll make it up to him."
"Already scheduled. Tomorrow. 2 PM." He leaned back. Watching. "But I'm concerned. You've seemed distracted lately. Distant. Is everything alright?"
The test. I could feel it in the air between us.
"I've been tired. Working too much maybe."
"Or working on the wrong things?"
My heart jumped. "I don't understand."
"Don't you?"
He opened his desk drawer. Pulled out my prescription bottle.
The one I'd flushed.
"Your medication. You left it in the bathroom. I had your doctor refill it. You need to stay balanced, Harlow. These episodes get worse without treatment."
I stared at the bottle. Thirty white pills. The leash he kept me on for seven years.
"Thank you." I reached for it. My hand almost steady. "I've been forgetting."
"I know. That's why you're unstable. Making impulsive decisions. Like cutting your hair. Like missing important viewings." His voice went soft. Concerned. "The medication helps you stay focused on what matters."
I opened the bottle. My fingers felt numb. Shook one pill into my palm.
Julian watched.
Waiting.
I put it in my mouth. Swallowed. No water. It stuck halfway down my throat. I swallowed again. Felt it scrape the whole way into my stomach.
Julian's smile reached his eyes this time. "Good. I worry about you. You know how much I value our partnership. How much I've invested in your career."
"I know. I'm grateful."
"Are you? Because lately I wonder if you remember what your life was like before me. Before I gave you opportunities. Recognition."
The pill sat in my stomach like a stone. I'd have to throw it up later. Soon.
"I remember. You saved me."
"Exactly." He stood. Came around the desk. His hand landed on my shoulder. Heavy. "Tomorrow's viewing is important. Viktor Volkov is investing two hundred million. This authentication needs to be perfect. Can you do that for me?"
His hand felt like it was burning through my blouse.
"Yes."
"Good girl."
My stomach turned. But I didn't move. Just sat there being exactly what he'd made me.
Three blocks away I found a bathroom. Locked the door. Stuck my fingers down my throat until the pill came up with everything else. I rinsed my mouth. Stared at myself in the mirror.
Thirty-eight days.
I texted Marlowe: "He bought it. Tomorrow 2 PM I authenticate the first piece."
Response came fast: "Tonight. Gallery opening. Chelsea. We need to be seen together. Establish relationship publicly. 8 PM."
The gallery was already packed when I arrived at 7:45. Collectors everywhere. Dealers. Artists. Everyone who mattered.
Marlowe stood by a sculpture. He'd cleaned up. Dark suit. Nothing like the warehouse version of him.
When he saw me, he just walked over. No smile. No acknowledgment.
"You're late."
"Traffic."
"We're supposed to be a couple. Try looking happy to see me."
I attempted a smile. It felt like my face was cracking.
"Better." But his voice was flat. "Stay close. Laugh at what I say. Touch my arm occasionally. Sell this."
The next hour was agony. Marlowe introduced me to people. Made small talk about the pieces. Asked my opinion on a Rothko that made me feel feverish.
I stood next to him. Answered questions. Smiled.
But I couldn't touch him. Every time I tried, my hand froze. My body wouldn't cooperate.
A dealer named Marcus asked how long we'd been together.
"Three months," Marlowe said easily.
"That's wonderful. You two seem very professional."
Professional. The kiss of death.
Outside, Marlowe walked three blocks before stopping in an alley.
"That was a disaster."
"I tried."
"You performed. Badly. Julian will hear about this. He has people at every gallery. They'll tell him you looked miserable." He stepped closer. "You can't fake attraction to someone treating you like a tool? Then find a version of yourself that doesn't need anyone's approval. Not mine. Not Julian's. Because right now you're useless."
The words landed like punches.
"I'm trying."
"Try harder. Or we're both dead in thirty-eight days."
He walked away.
Left me standing there.
I didn't follow. Just stood in the cold until my phone buzzed.
Marlowe: "Warehouse. Now."
When I got there, he had pieces arranged everywhere. Paintings. Sculptures. Things I recognized. Things I didn't.
"Close your eyes."
I did.
"I'm going to guide you to each piece. You tell me genuine or fake. No looking. No analysis. Just what your body knows."
He led me to the first piece.
My hands went numb immediately.
"Fake."
"Correct. Next."
Warmth in my chest. Almost painful.
"Genuine."
"Correct."
We went through twenty-four pieces. I got dizzy halfway through. Lost count. My temperature kept spiking and dropping. By the end I was shaking.
"Open your eyes."
I did.
"Twenty-three out of twenty-four. The one you missed had authentic base with forged additions. Your body knew something was wrong but couldn't pinpoint it."
He looked at me different. Like he was seeing something new.
"This is your weapon. Julian made you think it was sickness. Time to use it against him."
My phone buzzed.
Julian: "Heard you were with Marlowe Ashford tonight. Interesting choice given his reputation. Lunch tomorrow, 1 PM?"
He knew.
I texted back: "Lunch sounds perfect."
Then to Marlowe: "He knows about tonight."
Marlowe read it. His face didn't change.
"Good. Let him worry. Meet me 6 AM. We're preparing for real this time."
Thirty-eight days to midnight.
I didn't sleep.