Chapter 34


    Chapter 34: The Exhibit


    Moana


    I couldn’t bring myself to avoid Ethan’s exhibit after he had asked me to go so many times. So, after


    putting E to bed, I went to Selina with my hand on my stomach and a frown on my face.


    “I’m afraid I might have contracted food poisoning,” I said, feigning illness. “Can you keep an eye on


    things if E wakes up? I’m going to go to urgent care.”


    Selina frowned, looking at her watch. “Do you need a driver?” she asked.


    I vehemently shook my head. “No. It’s okay. I’ll call a cab.”


    “Well… Alright,” she said, pursing her lips. “Be careful.”


    After that, I put on a simple dress that could pass for urgent care attire if anyone were to question me,


    and gged down a cab outside of the penthouse.


    Just as I suspected, the art gallery was packed to the brim when I arrived. As I got out of the cab, I felt


    a lump rise in my throat; all of the other patrons seemed to be dressedvishly, which made me feel


    incredibly out of ce.


    There was a line with a bouncer to get in. I stood in line, patiently waiting my turn.


    “Name?” the bouncer said, eyeing me up and down suspiciously as I walked up to him.


    “Moana Fowler,” I replied.


    The bouncer narrowed his eyes at me before scanning his list for a painstakingly long moment. “You’re


    not on the list,” he said. His voice was gruff and indifferent, and before I could say anything else, he


    waved me away to let the next person in.


    “But I have an invitation from Ethan,” I replied, clutching my purse nervously as I stood to the side.


    The bouncer, not even bothering to look at me, simply scoffed. “I highly doubt the artist personally


    invited a human. Quit wasting my time and get out of here. You cane back to view the art


    tomorrow, when it’s open to the public.”


    “Actually,” a familiar voice said from behind the bouncer, “I did invite her. Come on in, Moana.”


    Ethan stepped out from behind the bouncer, resulting in a chorus of murmurs making their way through


    the line of people waiting. The bouncer’s eyes widened, and without another word, he stepped out of


    the way and let me in.


    “So sorry about that,” Ethan said, guiding me in through the foyer with his hand on my back. “He’s just


    doing his job. These art openings are very exclusive.”


    “I understand,” I replied meekly as I looked around at all of the wealthy-looking people that were milling


    about the museum.


    “Well, thank you foring,” Ethan said with a warm smile. “Unfortunately I have to participate in some


    involuntaryworking with a few of the patrons here, but feel free to take a look around. And have a


    ss of champagne, too.” He reached out, taking a ss of champagne off of a waiter’s tray, and


    handed it to me. “I’ll find you soon.”


    I took the champagne and nodded, watching as Ethan disappeared into the crowd.


    Taking a deep breath and a sip of the champagne for courage, I made my way into the gallery so I


    could get a better look at the artwork.


    If I thought that Ethan’s work was amazing before in his studio, it was even more amazing now beneath


    the gallery lighting. A jazz quartet yed lively music from a small stage at the back of the gallery,


    creating an atmosphere that almost made the artworke alive. Groups of patrons milled about,


    many of them using sophisticated ‘art speak’ to describe the works when, in actuality, they were only


    trying to impress their peers… But I waspletely enthralled with the work.


    I slowly walked around, not speaking to anyone — not that anyone would have spoken to me, either —


    with my ss of champagne in my hand as I closely studied each and every piece of artwork. Each


    piece seemed to fit into a simr theme, which felt reminiscent of the childhood drawings that Ethan


    had showed me the night before.


    There was one particr painting that caught my eye, however. It was small, tucked away in a corner


    of the gallery, and no one else seemed to notice it; but I did. I felt entranced by the depiction of a young


    boy, staring out at the viewer from a ck void. His face was sad, but there was also a hint of


    something else behind it that I couldn’t quite read. It was as if he was secretly mocking his own


    sadness.


    “Fan of that one, huh?” Ethan’s voice suddenly said from behind me, breaking me out of my trance. I


    jumped a bit at the sound of his voice, not realizing that I had been standing in front of the painting for


    quite some time.


    “Oh… You startled me,” I said, feeling my face flush. “Yes. I think this one might be my favorite.”


    “It’s my favorite, too,” Ethan replied. “I haven’t given it a name.”


    I nodded, turning back to look at the painting. There was a bit of a silence before Ethan spoke. “Did you


    remember to bring some of your work to show me?”


    “I did, actually,” I replied, my hands shaking a bit nervously as I reached into my purse and pulled out a


    single, folded piece of paper and held it out to Ethan. “It’s not much. Just a sketch.”


    Ethan took the paper from me and opened it. I watched with anticipation, feeling my heart rate quicken


    as he carefully studied my drawing. It was the same drawing that I had been working on in my bedroom


    the night that Edrick told me about the WereCorp wages: a drawing of the cityscape from the view of


    my balcony at the penthouse.


    “Moana,” he finally said after a few moments, “this is stunning. You didn’t mention that you could draw


    this well.”


    I felt my face go red at the famous artist’s words. “R-Really?” I stammered.


    Ethan nodded vigorously and handed the drawing back to me. “You’ve got some real talent. You should


    try to tap into it a bit more; I could see you doing really well with your art.”


    I took the paper back and folded it again, putting it in my purse. “That means a lot,” I murmured. “Thank


    you. By the way… is this painting for sale?”


    Ethan’s eyes widened. “You don’t have to buy it. You can have it.”


    “No, please,” I insisted. “I don’t want to take it without paying. It’s too beautiful.”


    “Nonsense,” Ethan interrupted. I watched with wide eyes as he waved over a member of the staff. He


    mumbled something to the staff member, who nodded his head and took the painting off the wall right


    before our eyes and walked away, disappearing into a back room. “He’s going to wrap it up for you. I


    won’t let you leave tonight empty-handed.”


    “T-Thank you,” I replied, biting my lip. Suddenly, I had an idea, and pulled the drawing back out of my


    purse. “Let’s trade, then. I know it’s a bit uneven, but…”


    Ethan grinned and took the paper, slipping it into his pocket. “I think it’s a very fair trade.”


    We both fell silent again. Even now that the painting was no longer in front of us, it wouldn’t leave my


    mind, and it made me wonder about our childhoods and what it meant to feelpletely alone, like the


    boy staring out from the void.


    “I have a question,” I said suddenly, swirling my champagne around my ss absentmindedly. “If you


    don’t mind me asking.”


    “Go ahead,” Ethan replied.


    “Have there been any children in your family who were sent away for being wolfless?”


    Ethan furrowed his brow and shook his head. “No. It’s just Edrick and I, anyway. Why do you ask?”


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    “I’ve just been learning a lot about werewolvestely,” I replied. “I’d like to know more.”


    Ethan paused for a moment, thinking, before speaking again. “Have you heard the story of the Golden


    Wolf?”