Chapter 4 — The Gallery’s Dilemma

Amelia

The Galerie Saint-Clair stood like a solemn sentinel in the heart of the Marais district, its pale limestone façade catching the faint slant of morning light. Amelia Duval ascended the gallery’s stone steps, her sharp heels clicking against the polished surface, a rhythmic echo that steadied her nerves. She paused at the entrance and adjusted the silk scarf knotted at her neck, her fingers brushing the bronze compass tucked into her pocket. Its cool weight was grounding, a tether to her deliberate control. The faint scent of lilies, varnish, and aged wood drifted from the open doors, a familiar cocktail of comfort and expectation.