Chapter 2
At 7 AM in the bathroom, makeup products scattered everywhere like the aftermath of a war.
I stood in front of the mirror, barely recognizing the person staring back at me. Last night's black hair had been transformed into soft chestnut waves, my tattoos completely hidden beneath a long-sleeved dress, and light makeup made me look like a good girl college student.
'It's like putting on a mask.' I couldn't help but reach out to touch the reflection's cheek.
The phone rang, interrupting my thoughts.
"Ready?" Sophia's voice sounded unusually excited.
"I think so." I stared at the stranger in the mirror.
"You're putting on an act, darling. Remember, you're Rachel, from Oregon Art Institute. Modest background, introverted personality, loves art but lacks confidence."
"What if I screw this up?" My voice trembled slightly.
"You won't." Her tone became serious. "Fifty thousand dollars, remember that number."
Right. Money. This was all about money.
After hanging up, I took one last look in the mirror. The girl reflected back looked so harmless, so... fake. But that's exactly what I needed.
The boutique coffee shop in Portland's art district was always packed at 10 AM. Industrial décor, exposed brick walls displaying local artists' work, the air filled with coffee aroma and creative energy.
I chose a corner seat, opening my sketchbook to pretend I was drawing while actually watching the entrance. My palms were slightly sweaty, heart beating a bit fast.
'Stay cool, Raven. You're just a regular girl here for coffee.'
At 10:15, he appeared.
Zane Reed in person was more charming than his photos. Golden hair gleaming in the sunlight, blue eyes clear as seawater, tall and athletic build. He walked in with two friends, smile radiant, the complete picture of a golden boy.
"You have to come to that rooftop party tonight!" one of his friends said. "Jessica said there'll be lots of models."
"Of course, I never miss a good party." Zane grinned, getting in line at the counter.
'Now.' I took a deep breath, gathering my art supplies and standing up. Timing it perfectly, I clutched a pile of sketchbooks and paint boxes, "accidentally" bumping into him.
The collision was perfect. Paint tubes rolled across the floor, sketch papers scattered everywhere.
"Oh my god! I'm so sorry!" I immediately knelt down to clean up, cheeks deliberately flushing red.
"It's okay, let me help you—" He bent down to help, then stopped. "Wow, these drawings are really good."
He picked up a sketch of Portland's nightscape that I'd drawn last night, genuine surprise flashing in his eyes.
"Thank you..." I shyly lowered my head. "I'm just a student..."
"Student? This doesn't look like student work." He stood up, still holding the drawing. "I'm Zane, you are?"
"Ra... Rachel." I almost said the wrong name. "Sorry for bumping into you, I'm always so clumsy."
"Stop apologizing." He smiled, extending his hand. "Let me buy you coffee as compensation, though I should be the one apologizing."
"You didn't do anything wrong."
"I was in your way." He winked. "And I'm curious about your artwork."
Twenty minutes later, we sat at a small table in the corner. I ordered a caramel macchiato, he got black coffee. His friends had already left, saying they were going to prepare for tonight's party.
"You have a deep understanding of color." Zane seriously flipped through my sketchbook. "What's your major at school?"
"Painting... I prefer expressing inner feelings rather than technique." This wasn't completely a lie. I did love art, just that my canvas was human skin.
"That's rare." He looked up at me, his gaze carrying an unexpected seriousness. "So many people focus only on surface things now, forgetting art's true essence."
'He actually understands this?' I was somewhat surprised. Sophia's files said he was just a party animal.
"Do you paint too?" I asked.
"I collect." His expression became somewhat complex. "My father thinks art is a waste of time, but I think... beautiful things should be protected."
For a moment, I saw loneliness in his eyes. Not pretense, but genuine emotion.
"There's a party tonight, lots of artists will be there, would you like to—" he began inviting me.
"I..." I deliberately acted shy. "I'm not really suited for parties. Too noisy, I prefer quiet places."
He stopped and looked at me, seeming to consider something.
"Then... could I see your work?" I asked tentatively. "If you have a collection."
His eyes instantly lit up. "You want to see my collection? Of course! My place is nearby, I have lots of interesting pieces."
I felt secretly pleased inside, but maintained a shy smile on the surface. "Really?"
"Absolutely." He was already standing up. "Much more interesting than a party."
We walked out of the coffee shop, Portland's autumn sunlight streaming down on the street. He walked beside me, excitedly talking about his collection.
"I have several pieces from local artists, plus some vintage posters..."
I nodded in response, but internally I was calculating the next step. The mission was going smoother than expected, but I found myself unexpectedly affected by his reactions. He wasn't just a shallow rich kid—at least when it came to art, he had genuine passion.
Just then, his phone rang.
"Maxwell? What's up?" He answered, his tone immediately becoming respectful.
"Tonight? But I..." He glanced at me, seeming to hesitate. "Yes, I know the client is important. Okay, I'll be home."
After hanging up, he looked somewhat apologetic.
"Sorry, my brother says there's an important client meeting tonight, I have to be home."
Brother. Lawyer Maxwell Reed. My mind quickly searched through Sophia's files, but there was almost no information about Maxwell.
"It's okay." I tried to keep my voice steady. "Family is more important."
"You're really understanding." He smiled, but his smile didn't quite reach his eyes. "Most girls would be angry if I canceled a date."
Date? He considered this a date?
"This isn't really a date, is it?" I blushed, but this time it wasn't an act.
"Isn't it to you?" He stopped walking, looking at me seriously.
This question caught me off guard. In my plan, this was just the first step to approach the target, but now...
"I..."
"Just kidding." He grinned, easing the awkward atmosphere. "But I really want you to see my collection. How about tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow?"
"If you're free." His voice carried uncertainty, as if worried I might refuse.
"Okay."
"Great!" His smile became radiant again. "I promise you'll love it."
We parted at the street corner, him heading toward the residential area, me going the opposite direction. After making sure he was gone, I pulled out my phone.
"Sophia, we need to talk."
"What's wrong? Isn't the mission going well?"
"You didn't tell me Zane has a lawyer brother named Maxwell."
Silence for several seconds on the other end.
"He's always busy with work and never gets involved in Zane's life. I didn't think he'd be a factor." Her voice carried a dismissive tone. "Don't let it distract you."
"Don't let it distract me?" I lowered my voice. "With his brother there, getting him alone will be impossible. And a lawyer... he might see right through this act."
"Raven, calm down. This doesn't change the plan. You've successfully approached the target, that's the hardest part."
I wanted to argue back, but she had already hung up.
