Chapter 20: Stolen Paintings, Stolen Time

The private gallery was dimly lit, air-conditioned, and heavily guarded.

Aurora's heels clicked across the marble floor as she followed Sebastian through the halls. Portraits of historical women lined the walls — scholars, rebels, queens. All painted with haunting grace.

But it was the final piece that stopped her breath.

A portrait of herself.

Dressed in crimson robes. Crowned. A jade ring gleaming at her throat.

"This was stolen during the revolution," Sebastian said. "It reappeared in a collector's vault three months ago. I had it returned."

Aurora moved closer. The likeness was undeniable. But it was the eyes that struck her — identical to her own. Not in color, but in grief.

"They painted her pain," she whispered. "Not her power."

"She asked for it that way," Sebastian replied. "To remind the world of the cost of silence."

She turned to him. "You remember too much."

"I lived too long in regret," he said softly.

She reached for his hand. "Then let's stop losing time."

He looked at her, something raw in his gaze.

"We won't. Not again."

They stood together in front of the stolen painting — no longer relics of a shattered past, but survivors stealing time back from fate.