Chapter 5

Mabel led me to Morton's room.

The moment the door swung open, I held my breath.

The room was huge, all black, white, and gray, simple and clean. There was a big bed, a bookshelf, and an easel, with a white cloth draped over it.

The air was tinged with a barely-there dustiness, mixed with a faint pine scent, the kind of quiet, lonely feeling I would get from a place that's been empty for ages.

"Mrs. Parker has me tidy up in here every day. Everything's exactly where it was when Mr. Parker was around," Mabel said, fluffing up the pillows as she spoke.

I walked over to the bookshelf. It was packed with art books and art history volumes, most of them in their original languages. Aurora was right. Morton really had a deep knowledge of classical oil painting.

On the glass door of the bookshelf, there were a few sticky notes with bold, expressive handwriting.

One read: [Out of inspiration. Feel like dying.]

Another read: [Grant Robson is a god.]

A third read: [If I could be reborn, I'd want to be a bird.]

Looking at those short notes, for the first time, the image of a young man, alive, a bit rebellious, a little melancholic, became real to me.

He wasn't just some lifeless photo on a gravestone. He was someone who'd actually lived here, with his own worries and dreams.

I felt a weird blend of guilt and curiosity stirring inside me.

After Mabel left, I was alone in the room.

I couldn't bring myself to get on the bed, so I just sat down on the carpet. The room was saturated with Morton's presence, and I felt like an intruder.

I lifted the white cloth off the easel.

Underneath was an unfinished oil painting. It showed a shadowy silhouette standing at the edge of a cliff, staring out at a rolling sea of clouds.

The whole canvas was drenched in somber blues and grays, with only a faint streak of light on the horizon.

I couldn't explain why, but as I looked at the painting, I could almost sense the mood the artist had been in. It was lonely, confused, yet tinged with restlessness and longing.

It was so much like how I felt at the cemetery today.

I reached out, my fingertips brushing lightly over the rough canvas.

I whispered his name, "Morton Parker, I'm sorry."

I really meant it.

I'd cashed in on his death, lying to his heartbroken mom.

I pulled out my phone and opened the notification about the 2 million dollars hitting my account.

I kept staring at the number, again and again. It was so tempting, but it felt like it was burning a hole in my pocket.

My mind was at war with itself.

One voice whispered, "Leave, Tasha. Before it's too late, give the money back, tell Zelda the truth, and ask for her forgiveness."

But another voice snapped, "You can't leave. If you give the money back, how are you supposed to pay rent?

"How are you supposed to survive? Did you forget how you cried because you couldn't even afford groceries?"

The shame of being broke and the dread of my lies kept pulling me in opposite directions.

I hugged my knees and buried my face in them.

If I stayed, I'd have to deal with Aurora's constant suspicion and probing, always one step away from being found out.

But if I left, I'd just end up back in that hopeless pit where the future was nothing but a blank wall.

I wondered what I was supposed to do.

Just then, I spotted a photo frame tucked away in the corner of the desk. I walked over and picked it up.

The photo showed a younger Morton and Aurora. Morton was in a jersey, drenched in sweat, flashing his trademark grin. those little canine teeth peeking out.

Aurora stood beside him, ponytail swinging, her face all cool attitude, but her eyes gave her away. full of fondness.

They seemed really close.

It was no wonder Aurora was so hostile toward me. To her, I was just some stranger who suddenly showed up, trying to share or even steal the last bit of warmth her brother left behind.

I put the photo frame back in its place.

An idea was slowly forming in my mind.

I couldn't just walk away now. If I left, Aurora would be convinced I was just some scammer after their money.

To Zelda, I'd be another person who disappeared without warning, another wound she'd have to carry.

I had to stay.

It was not just about the money anymore. I wanted to prove something to myself, and also to them.

I wanted Aurora to see that I was not the person she thought I was.

I wanted my being here to bring Zelda some real comfort after Morton's death, not just more pain.

It was a bold idea, and also borderline insane.

I was a fraud, but I actually thought I could bring some comfort to this family.

I took a deep breath, as if steeling myself for something big. I grabbed my phone and started searching for information about classical oil painting basics, Grant's life story, and the Kaeritinian School.

From this moment, Tasha was gone.

I was Morton's "friend from when he was alive", someone who got him, who understood his world, who was genuinely passionate about his art.

This lie was going to be airtight. Nobody would ever catch on.