BellaThe party at MoMA was dazzling… glittering lights, champagne flutes in every hand, and the kind of art that made your soul ache just from being near it. Aristide looked unfairly good in his black suit, every detail of him was deliberate. It felt like we’d stepped straight into a movie scene.He kept a steady hand on the small of my back as we made our way through the crowd. One by one, he introduced me to what felt like half of New York’s elite. There were curators, collectors, patrons, and even a few up-and-coming artists. I smiled, nodded, shook hands, sipped at my champagne when I wasn’t talking, and did my best not to let the nervous flutter in my stomach.Then he led me to her…“Isabella,” Aristide said, his voice was warm with pride, “this is Dr. Marianne Leclair, Director of the Metropolitan Museum of Art.”I froze for a second. The Dr. Leclair. I had read her papers. Studied her work. I’d even watched her speak in person before, sitting cross-legged in the back row of a
Last Updated : 2025-05-31
