Page 37 of Outcast’s Return

There are five of them, standing by a painting on display in the middle of the first room.

The automatic front doors squeak as I enter, announcing my arrival.

Eustace spots me first. I’m glad he does. I need to deal with him before the others.

Eustace Escoffier is the owner of this art gallery and is the man who has banned me from the joint. He immediately struts over to me at a panicked pace with a scowl across his face, trying to intercept me before I can cause any damage.

Oh, he really doesn’t want me talking to his guests.

In his early forties, Eustace is well-groomed to the point of cartoonish artificiality. Fake tan. Gleaming fake white teeth. He’s everything I find wrong with the art world. Even his voice is fake. The man is American, but he dabbles with a French-accented twist to make himself seem cultured and exotic.

And if it isn’t clear enough, he really, really hates me.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Eustace hisses once he reaches me, careful not to be overheard by his guests.

I give him the courtesy of stopping in my tracks and glaring at him.

“I’m here to fix something.”

“Get out of my gallery, Fabien. I’ll call the police if you’re not gone in thirty seconds.”

“You’re leading people astray, Eustace,” I reply calmly. “You’re telling lies, and you’ve been doing it for a long time.”

“How dare...”

“I’m here to finally end it.”

He’s practically spluttering.

We haven’t had many interactions. Eustace has always considered me and my gallery trash. Well, that was until I started making moves in the art world.

I’ve built my gallery from nothing, and I’m not about to let all my hard work go to waste. I was happy to leave him be, but he went out specifically to target me. He first tried to kick me out of the game, offering to buy my gallery cheaply. I refused, and then he got petty. He’s used every connection he’s got in the art world to destroy me. He’s tried to get me banned from every party, every gallery, every auction room. He’s bitched about me to every industry insider and media personality. He’s plagiarized my exhibitions. He’s paid reviewers at big publications to give my gallery bad reviews.

He thought he would take me on and destroy me like every other gallery owner in the city who has crossed him.

But what he doesn’t know is that I’m a fighter.

And that I’m willing to do whatever it takes to survive.

“End what?” he asks. “I’m at the top of the scene in this city, and you’re just full of hot air. Someone who never even got into college, let alone art school. Why would anyone listen to you? Get out.”

“Your barbs may hurt others,” I retort, “but they don’t work on me, Eustace.”

“You know, it’s pathetic you’re here,” he jeers. “You’re trying to steal my clients. It’s so pathetic. I knew who you were the minute I saw you. A pretender. You’ll never fit in among the rest of us. Have you even heard of my new exhibition? It’ll be a hit.”

He gestures grandly around the room, at the artworks lining the walls. There is one word above the works. One word stating the name of this exhibition.

Orphans.

I freeze. He dares go there? To the wound that she ripped open? That’s the title?

I want to scream, but I compose myself.

Do not give him that satisfaction, Fabien. Turn that pain into power.

Eustace Escoffier is fully aware of my past and of what happened to my parents.

I own my art gallery for the love of it. For the passion that stems from my father gifting me my first work of art. Sure, I’ve made a hell of a lot of money from art, but that’s not why I started the gallery. I could’ve made a lot more money doing something like what Clement’s doing on Wall Street.