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Suddenly, Sean was on the phone, muttering something. Rose couldn’t remember who he was calling. She couldn’t feel her feet.
Oren took a step toward her. He licked his lips. Beside him was a beautiful blond—much younger than he was. Was she his wife? Rose struggled to remember.
She still remembered marrying him. She still remembered giving her entire heart to him. How could she not have?
He manipulated me. He took me for all I had and left me to rot. I had nothing.
Suddenly, three cops tore into the ballroom, flashing their badges. The people at the front entrance had their hands up. They looked stricken.
“We’re looking for Phil and Audra Walden,” one of the cops bellowed.
The crowd parted to reveal Mrs. Walden. She looked just as powerful as she did in the painting, her eyes glinting. “What could this possibly concern, Officers?” She said it as though she planned to ensure every single one of them lost their jobs.
She probably could do that, Rose reasoned. She probably still would be able to, even if she was in the wrong. That was just how money worked.
The cop barreled toward her. Another followed him, while the third traced the crowd to find Sean.
“You are under arrest for suspicion of art theft,” the first officer said to Mrs. Walden.
Mr. Walden appeared behind her with his hands up. He looked dopey. “I don’t understand.”
Rose turned to watch as Oren cut through the crowd, hurrying for the exit. Her heart slammed to a stop.
“It was him!” Rose screamed. “Don’t let him get away!”
Suddenly, a fourth officer appeared in the doorway and slammed the massive golden door shut. Oren ricocheted and took off for another exit. But three cops were hot on his heels, surging toward him. Oren’s escape strategy was akin to a child trying to get away with something. And it also proved his hands red.
Already, a cop had Oren’s massive wrists in handcuffs. Oren cackled as though the whole thing were a game. His eyes found Rose’s through the crowd.
“You think you can get away with framing me like this, Rosie?” he called.
Mrs. Walden gaped and followed his eyes. “Rose?” she whispered. “What on earth?” She then flailed her hand toward her and said, “She’s an impostor, Officer. She pretended to be someone she’s not!”
“Look at me, Rosie,” Oren blared. “I did this for you, Rosie. For us!”
Rose’s voice was meek. “You wanted me to be distracted. You didn’t want me to find out your crimes.”
“What crimes, Rosie?” Oren said as the cops dragged him out of the room. “Tell me one thing I’ve done wrong. Haven’t I cared for you? Haven’t I loved you till the very end? Wasn’t it you who stopped lovingme first, Rosie?”
He went on like that until they pulled him into the cop car. Rose could hear him screaming in the street.
Suddenly, Rose collapsed against Sean and burst into tears. He held her as she shook and cried, then led her out of the ballroom and into a taxi and back to the hotel room they now shared. He drew her a bath and held her hand as she trembled.
But already, the news was hot with Oren’s arrest.
“Breaking! Millionaire Oren Grayson was arrested this evening under suspicion of art theft,” a newscaster said, his face glossy and tan. “The New York City Police Department, in cooperation with the Nantucket Island Police Department, traced artist Rose Carlson’s recently stolen sculpture all the way to the Walden fundraiser in Midtown this evening. What’s particularly riveting about this story? Rose Carlson is Oren Grayson’s second wife. We’ll have more news at eleven.”
There was speculation already that Oren had done what he’d done to “mess” with his ex-wife. To “teach her a lesson.”
It was a surprise to Rose. She’d never thought anyone would be on her side. Not when Oren had money.
Maybe the tides really were turning for women.
Rose was wrapped in a robe and huddled against Sean in bed. She felt protected, soft. Already, she’d received word from her client, who’d texted:
WOW. This is crazy. This art piece is going to be SO FAMOUS. And it’s still mine!
But Rose wasn’t so sure about that. She had a feeling she was going to give the client all her money back so she could keep the piece. She’d grown too attached.
