The Art of Jessica Jane のすべてのチャプター: チャプター 171 - チャプター 180

The trial began two weeks later.News crews gathered outside the courthouse every morning.Reporters filled the steps.Cameras followed every arrival.Every departure.Every reaction.Paris had become fascinated by the story.A respected gallery owner dead.A stalker whose obsession had escalated into violence.A fire.A collapse.Years of destruction.The public consumed every detail.Jessica hated all of it.She attended because she had to.Because Henri deserved that much.Nothing more.Nothing less.The proceedings moved slowly.Painfully slowly.Witnesses testified.Evidence was presented.Experts explained timelines and motives.Photographs appeared on screens.Messages were read aloud.Security footage played repeatedly.Every day felt like reopening old wounds.Every day forced Jessica to relive moments she desperately wanted to forget.The attack.The fire.The collapse.Henri's death.Again.And again.And again.By the end of the first week she felt exhausted.Not physicall

Three months passed.Spring began returning to Paris.The city softened.Trees regained their leaves.Cafés spilled onto pavements once more.Tourists filled the streets.Life continued its relentless march forward.Everyone seemed pleased about that.Everyone except Jessica.From the outside, she appeared fine.Better than fine.The gallery was thriving.The Oak Project had expanded into two additional cities.New partnerships formed.Funding increased.Exhibitions sold out.People constantly congratulated her.They called her resilient.Strong.Inspiring.The compliments felt strangely hollow.Because every achievement arrived carrying the same thought.Henri should have been here to see this.The feeling never disappeared.It simply learned how to hide.One Wednesday afternoon, Jessica found herself sitting across from a journalist.The interview had been arranged weeks earlier.A feature about the gallery's recovery.A story about resilience after tragedy.The sort of article maga

Jessica first noticed him at an exhibition.Not because he was charming.Not because he was handsome.Not because he stood out.Quite the opposite.He blended in perfectly.A well tailored suit.An easy smile.The sort of confidence people instinctively trusted.The sort of confidence that made donors write cheques and gallery owners offer invitations.The sort of confidence Henri had always warned people about.Not because confidence itself was dangerous.Because it sometimes hid dangerous things.The exhibition had been organised by a partner gallery across the city.A charity event.Well attended.Well funded.Exactly the sort of evening Jessica usually endured rather than enjoyed.She spent most of the night speaking with artists and sponsors.Smiling.Networking.Performing.The role had become second nature.At some point during the evening, Ethan Blake introduced himself.The interaction lasted less than five minutes.Long enough for polite conversation.Long enough to exchange

The second volunteer arrived just after six o'clock.Jessica had already sent most of the staff home.The gallery had grown quiet.Outside, evening traffic moved slowly through the streets of Paris.Inside, a nervous young woman sat across from her desk twisting her hands together.Jessica recognised the behaviour immediately.The hesitation.The uncertainty.The fear of being dismissed.She had seen it before.Far too many times."Take your time," she said gently.The volunteer nodded.Then looked down at the floor.For several moments she seemed unable to begin.Finally the words came."It's probably nothing."Jessica almost laughed.The exact same phrase.Again.The coincidence wasn't comforting."What happened?"The young woman took a deep breath."There was a man at the fundraiser."Jessica remained expressionless.Already knowing the answer.Already dreading it."He kept finding reasons to talk to me."The volunteer swallowed nervously."At first I thought he was just being frie

The next morning, Jessica woke with the same thought she had fallen asleep with. Three women. Three warnings. Three opportunities. The question refused to leave her alone. It followed her through breakfast. Through meetings. Through gallery tours. Like a splinter lodged beneath the skin. Small. Persistent. Impossible to ignore. By midday she found herself distracted for the third time during a funding meeting. The embarrassment alone should have forced her to refocus. It didn't. Instead, her thoughts returned once again to Ethan Blake. Not because she believed he was guilty of anything. Because she couldn't stop wondering whether everyone else was wrong. The distinction mattered. At least she told herself it did. That evening, Jessica remained at the gallery long after the staff had left. The building had become unusually quiet. Rain tapped softly against the windows. The city beyond blurred beneath grey skies. On her desk sat the three s