Chapter 8: The Artists Who Refused to Leave
The first thing Jada expected was anger.
She expected the artists to blame her.
She expected messages demanding explanations.
She expected people to say she had failed them.
Instead, the first person who arrived at the studio hugged her.
It was Maya.
The young painter from the acceptance call.
Jada froze.
“Maya?””
Maya stepped back.
“You look surprised.””
“I thought you’d be angry.””
“I am.””
Jada nodded.
“I understand.””
“But not at you.””
That answer hurt more.
Because Jada had spent days preparing herself to be hated.
She had not prepared herself for kindness.
Maya looked around.
“Are we still artists here?””
Jada swallowed.
“Yes.””
“Then we’re not leaving.””
By noon, more applicants arrived.
Some had heard the news.
Some had seen the statements.
Some simply refused to believe the program they were promised could disappear because powerful people decided it should.
Theo watched them fill the studio.
“They’re choosing to stay.””
Jada smiled faintly.
“They always were.””
The artists began organizing.
Not a protest.
Not a publicity stunt.
A workspace.
They cleaned tables.
Moved supplies.
Protected unfinished pieces.
They were doing what artists always did.
Creating order from chaos.
That afternoon, Claire arrived.
She looked uncomfortable seeing everyone there.
“You should not encourage this.””
Jada turned.
“This?””
Claire gestured.
“The confusion.””
Jada looked at the artists.
“They’re not confused.””
Claire lowered her voice.
“You’re risking their futures.””
“No.””
Jada stepped closer.
“You are.””
Claire’s expression tightened.
“You think standing here makes you noble?””
“No.””
Jada looked around.
“I think it makes them brave.””
Claire glanced toward the artists.
“Do you really think they understand what they’re fighting?””
Maya answered before Jada could.
“Yes.””
Everyone turned.
Maya held a paint-covered brush.
“We understand exactly.””
Claire stared.
Maya continued.
“You told us we were chosen because we were talented.””
She stepped forward.
“Then you tried to replace us because we were inconvenient.””
The room went silent.
Claire had no response.
Because she was used to speaking for people.
Not hearing them.
That night, Jada received another message from Rebecca.
A location.
A time.
And one sentence:
I found the final contract.
Jada went alone this time.
Not because she trusted the instruction.
Because she needed to know.
Rebecca waited inside an old office building.
She looked exhausted.
“You found something.””
Rebecca nodded.
“The agreement Claire used to transfer authority.””
Jada reached for it.
Then stopped.
“What’s wrong?””
Rebecca looked at her.
“It wasn’t Claire’s signature.””
Jada felt the air leave the room.
“Whose was it?””
Rebecca handed her the paper.
At the bottom was a signature.
One she recognized.
Not Marcus.
Not Claire.
Not a sponsor.
Someone else.
Someone whose name appeared nowhere in the public documents.
Jada stared.
“How is this possible?””
Rebecca whispered:
“Because that person has been controlling the funding from the beginning.””
Jada looked up.
“Who?””
May you like
Rebecca’s answer was barely audible.
“The person who created Hudson Colors with you.””
