Chapter 8 - The Ruthless Studio Owner Enters The Grand Room
The double doors at the entrance of the studio swung open with a heavy, echoing thud against the wall.
Arthur Sterling, flanked by two private security guards in sharp black suits, stepped onto the polished floor.
At sixty-five, Arthur maintained the icy, calculated posture of a billionaire hedge fund manager disguised as an arts patron.
“Julian, I thought I told you to report upstairs five minutes ago,” Arthur said, his voice dripping with condescension.
He finally noticed Clara standing beside the barre, and his smug expression instantly vanished into hard stone.
“Clara Delacroix... I thought the nursing homes in upstate New York finally locked your doors for good,” Arthur sneered.
“I’m still very much alive, Arthur, and I brought some light to clean up your dark little basement,” Clara retorted smoothly.
May you like
Arthur’s eyes darted toward the manila folder resting on the wooden barre, and his jaw tightened instantly.
“Get those guards to confiscate that file right now before security has to remove you both,” Arthur ordered sharply.
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