Chapter 4

The gentle noblewoman in the painting looked at me, a silent comfort.

My nose stung, and tears almost fell.

My mother passed away young, leaving behind only this portrait she painted of herself before she died.

She said she hoped, through the eyes in the painting, to watch me find a good man and live a happy life.

This was my most important possession. Bruce knew that, of course.

He hesitated for a moment, then pointed to the hallway.

"Put that painting outside for now."

Claire's eyes flashed. She quickly stepped forward and snatched the portrait from the worker's hands.