Page 4 of Broken Destiny

I smiled, remembering Cole’s voice and how his shoulders pushed back when he’d told me, “The show must still go on, no matter what.”

Entering the gallery with all of them, I saw servers moving gracefully through the room, carrying trays of champagne and canapés for the guests who had already arrived.

The space buzzed with chatter, laughter and wide grins, a celebration built from Cole’s passion and vision.

Liam, Cole’s brother, and his family arrived shortly afterward.

“Hi, sorry we’re late,” he said, offering me an apologetic smile as they stepped inside.

“You’re just in time,” I replied, greeting them with a hug. “Traffic wasn’t too bad, I hope?”

“Not terrible,” Liam said with a chuckle. “The kids were just excited to get here. They’ve been talking about this all week.”

“That’s because your brother is the star of the night,” I teased lightly. “Come in, make yourselves comfortable. There’s plenty of food and drinks circulating.”

After a few more minutes of easy conversation, I stepped away and walked slowly through the gallery. I took a breath, closing my eyes briefly before opening them again, allowing myself to fully absorb the scene before me—people moving from photograph to photograph, studying Cole’s work, leaning forward, raising their eyebrows, and offering compliments.

This was his dream.

And I was standing inside it.

I sippedmy champagne as Andrea, Cole’s receptionist, stepped forward and made an announcement.

There were at least eighty people present in the gallery, their conversations blending into a low hum that filled the room.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Cole’s gallery. Thank you all for coming down here today. Cole Harris is no longer with us,” she paused, her eyes glistening. “However, he still wanted this event to go on. All the proceeds from the work you hopefully purchase will go to charity.” She cleared her throat. “Please enjoy the selection and the snacks.”

The guests dispersed in different directions, moving from display to display.

Holding Lucas’s small hand, I walked slowly through the gallery, pausing at each picture.

I studied every photograph, wondering what Cole had been thinking when he captured those moments—what had caught his eye, what had stirred his heart, what had made him press the shutter at that exact second.

The gallery was divided into sections. There were pictures of nature, of people in town, of women standing proudly in powerful roles, and of family—Liam, Jack, Maureen.

A mixture of black-and-white and coloured photographs lined the walls, illuminated by soft yellow lights from the ceiling. A smaller section displayed his abstract paintings, bold strokes of colour that reflected the depth of his imagination.

Turning the corner and reaching the end of the display, I heard Lucas gasp.

“Mama,” he shouted. “That’s you!”

“You… you… Mama,” Emma repeated.

I followed their gaze, and my breath caught in my throat.

Staring back at me was a painting of myself created by Cole, alive with vibrant colours. He had captured a moment of me looking at him, my face turned slightly, my expression soft and full of love. Around it were photographs of the children and me that he had taken over the years.

At the top of the piece, written in bold red acrylic letters, were the words:

To My Love, My Life… My Wife!

Tears burned behind my eyes.

My gaze continued moving across the display.

There were photographs of Lucas laughing, Emma asleep on Cole’s chest, camping trips, family dinners, and countless moments from the life we had built together.

Then my eyes landed on a photograph that made me stop walking.