LIGHT, SMOKE AND SECRETS

Paris Secret Art Pop-Up, 10:04 p.m.

The warehouse was barely recognizable. Long-forgotten and dust-laden just a week ago, it now pulsed with a raw, electric vibe. Spotlights cut through a sea of smoke, illuminating sculptures made of shattered mirrors, twisted wire, and flame-colored paint. The air smelled of burnt incense and danger.

Amira stepped inside in a black velvet dress that hugged her curves and bared her back. Her heels clicked on the concrete, echoing with purpose.

Rosalie walked beside her, grinning. "Now this," she said, "is how you enter a Carter war."

Amira's stomach twisted. "I didn't come to be in the middle of anything."

"Too late," Rosalie said under her breath.

Eyes turned as they entered. Cameras flashed. Someone whispered her name. But it wasn't the crowd that made Amira stop mid-step.

It was Zion, standing beneath a suspended chandelier made of broken wine bottles, eyes locked on her like she was both a threat and a promise.

She didn't move. Neither did he.

Not until Theo appeared behind her.

"Glad you came," he said, voice close to her ear. "You're about to see something real."

Zion's jaw tightened from across the room.

Five Minutes Later at Center Floor

Theo took the mic as lights dimmed.

"This collection," he said, "is called The Ones We Lost Before They Could Speak."

A hush fell.

"This one," he continued, pointing to a sculpture shaped like a burning book, "was inspired by someone I never got to meet. But someone I know mattered."

He looked straight at Amira.

"It's called Celeste."

Amira's heart dropped. Her breath caught.

Zion flinched.

She turned to him, but he was already walking away shoulders tense, fists clenched.

Behind the Venue , two Minutes Later

She found him by a cracked window, lighting a cigarette with a silver lighter.

"You knew about Celeste?" she asked, voice tight.

"I knew of her," he said without turning. "You never mentioned her."

"You never asked."

He turned, and something dangerous flickered in his eyes. "Theo had no right to use her."

"Neither do you," she snapped. "Not if you're just going to hide everything."

Silence stretched.

"I have a copy of her journal," he said suddenly.

Amira froze. "What?"

"I found it the night your father sold me half your gallery. It was tucked behind an old canvas. She wrote things... things you need to see."

He took a step closer.

"But not here. Come with me."

She looked into his eyes and saw something she hadn't seen before.

Fear.

Outside the Parking Lot

Theo waited near her car, his charm replaced by warning.

"If you go with him, he'll control what you learn," Theo said.

Amira looked from one brother to the other.

Two sides of the same storm.

One would burn her.

The other might bury her in half-truths.

But only one had Celeste's words.