All Chapters of Brushstrokes of the unseen : Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

The ballroom glittered like a jewel box, every corner gleaming with chandeliers, silver trays, and the subtle perfume of wealth. Waiters wove through the crowd with champagne flutes, and the low hum of polished conversation filled the air. Sophia Bennett adjusted the cuff of her tailored black dress, one that was deliberately understated among the sea of sequins and velvet. She hated these events — the shallow smiles, the whispered alliances — but her company had donated heavily to the charity tonight. Her presence was expected, and expectations were something she never failed. “Smile, Sophia,” Marcus whispered at her side, his own charm polished to perfection. “You’re the face of Bennett Innovations. Tonight is about visibility.” She gave him a thin smile. “Visibility I can manage. Pretending I enjoy this is another matter.” Marcus chuckled, knowing her well enough not to press. “At least the auction will be worth it. The city’s elite can’t resist overbidding on art when it’s

The night after the gallery unveiling, Sophia couldn’t sleep. Her penthouse, usually a sanctuary of glass and silence, felt like a cage. Every shadow pressed in, every reflection in the floor-to-ceiling windows a distorted reminder of what she had seen.Her face—no, her essence—had been painted twice now. Once in private, once in public.And the world adored it.The critics’ voices still rang in her head: “A masterful rendering of hidden vulnerability.”“A haunting portrayal of strength cloaked in isolation.”They were dissecting her. They didn’t even know her name, but through Alex’s brush they thought they understood her.Sophia wrapped herself tighter in her silk robe and paced the length of her living room. She had spent her life curating control, shaping narratives, commanding boardrooms. And now an artist—a man she had met only once—was rewriting her story in colors and lines she hadn’t consented to.Her phone buzzed. A message from Marcus.Marcus: Big win today. Investors thril

Monday mornings usually came to Sophia with a rhythm she could master. A schedule. A series of problems to conquer with precision. But this one arrived with distraction. She sat at the head of the glass conference table, the city’s skyline sprawling behind her like her personal empire. Her executives filled the seats — Marcus beside her, others scattered with their digital tablets glowing like shields. “Singapore expansion requires a brand anchor,” Marcus said, sliding charts toward her. “Something visual. Something bold enough to disrupt the market and yet tethered to our story of resilience.” He was halfway through his pitch before Sophia realized she wasn’t hearing him. Her gaze had drifted, unfocused, toward the abstract painting mounted on the far wall — thick brushstrokes, layered and imperfect. It was not corporate art. It was not sterile. It reminded her, unbearably, of him. “Ms. Bennett?” Marcus’s voice cut into her trance. “You agree?” Her jaw tightened. She sh

The boardroom was immaculate, as if it had been staged for a magazine spread rather than a strategy session. Everything gleamed under the recessed lighting: the polished oak table, the brushed steel fixtures, the sleek wall-mounted screen waiting for Sophia’s presentation to begin. The long expanse of glass behind her looked out over the skyline, the city still carrying the silver haze of morning. Sophia thrived in these rooms. It was here she felt most powerful, most in command of herself. Her team sat ready—Marcus to her right, eager and precise as always, two other senior executives with tablets open, waiting to annotate every word she said. The meeting was routine: reviewing the final steps of the global expansion strategy and weaving in the launch of the company’s new headquarters. The mural commission had been added as a flourish, a way to brand the space with a cultural touch that would make the building feel less like glass and steel, more like a living, breathing extensio

The city never truly slept, but from Sophia’s penthouse, it looked like it did. Glass towers shimmered faintly under the late-night haze, traffic pulsed in slow ribbons of light, and far below, the hum of existence droned on. She stood by the window, staring out, though her reflection was all she could see in the glass.The reflection unsettled her.It wasn’t the immaculate posture, the razor-sharp suit, or the unyielding line of her jaw. Those had been her armor for years, her signature in every boardroom she’d conquered. No—what unsettled her now was that she didn’t recognize herself at all.The mural haunted her.Not just the wings, not just the fractured figure. It was the truth in it, a truth she hadn’t given permission to be exposed. The world was supposed to see her as unbreakable, a queen who had carved her kingdom from stone and steel. But Alex—Alex, with his ragged clothes and stubborn eyes—had dragged something else into the light.And it was spreading.Already the whi