Artfully Yours の小説・ストーリー

*Lily* I have been completely absorbed in my art studio within the past few days, devoting myself to my latest collection titled "Divine Energy." The recent circumstances of my experiences have instilled in me an unwavering sense of determination, which I have channeled into my artistry. The result is a series of bold and dynamic pieces, exuding a raw power that I am sure will resonate with anyone who views them. I feel this collection truly represents my artistic vision, and I am excited to share it with the world.

Sandros ordered, sitting across from Olivon. Seeing the suitcase on his table, next to his drinks, Olivon’s eyes glowed mischievously, “You fulfilled your promise, Sandros.” he smiled, pushing the ladies away from him. The young girls whined, reaching for his arms, but Olivon ignored them anyway. He pulled the suitcase towards him and opened it, staring at the white powdery substance which costs a fortune, “Real.” Sandros crossed his legs and puffed out a smoky breath, “ I always keep to my promises.” A chilling glint flashed in his eyes as he leaned forward, “Now make sure you keep yours.” he smiled before walking away.

She needed the space to think, to process everything that had happened. The next morning, at exactly 9:00 AM, a soft knock on her door pulled Olive from her thoughts. She opened it to find one of the maids standing there, holding a beautifully wrapped box. The maid handed it to her with a small smile before disappearing down the hallway. Olive closed the door and sat on the edge of her bed, carefully unwrapping the box. Inside was a stunning red gown, the fabric so soft it felt like liquid silk against her skin. Rhinestones shimmered like fallen stars across the bodice. Accompanying it were exquisite diamond jewelry—a necklace, earrings, and a bracelet—each piece more expensive than anything

She opened her arms and said, "You have resigned, all the previous drafts you drew belong to the company! You cannot take them away!" Zoey coldly said, "Step aside." Ariana was half a head shorter than Zoey, and she looked up at her. "Zoey, it's just some discarded drafts. Why do you care so much?" Zoey's lips curved with a mocking arc, "Yeah, then why did you also care so much about some discarded drafts? What, can't you even draw discarded drafts?" Ariana caught a glimpse of Nelson's figure and firmly said, "Zoey, even if it's a discarded draft, it was still something you drew after learning some design at Born Beauty. This involves the secrets of Born Beauty, so you can't take it away!"

He doesn't want to drag the creek name in the mud as he always says. They got to the art gallery of Armani where luxurious art and designs are exhibited , Aiden lit up a tiny smile almost invisible, then boned up and advanced with Daymond following him at his back every single place he goes , every art he admired , he was just like the perfect robot for Aiden. “What do you think of this art?”Aiden asked Daymond. “It’s like staring at a romantic but heartbreaking relationship.”

Austin cleared his throat looking Ryder in the eye. “Ryder, I think there’s been a misinterpreting thing here,” said his voice smooth and confident. Ryder kicked an eyebrow, a question mark across his face. "Oh? What kind of misunderstanding"? Austin grinned his condescending eyes twinkling. It's me who works on this project, Ryder. Sara here is nothing but my assistant. The glare in Sara’s eyes told of anger and an outraged face illuminated her mad. She was in disbelief of Austin claiming her work and mocking her contributions to the client’s presence.

N_Nina_Arthur. Thank you, Love you all.

It was born out of countless sleepless nights, sketch-stained hands, and a belief that art doesn’t need fame to be powerful. Maison Élitaire is not a shadow of the Blackwell name. It is the dream I built with my own strength—and I will continue to protect and grow it, as I always have. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for walking this journey with me. —Elena Blackwell.” She reread it three times. Her heart pounded, her throat dry. It wasn’t perfect—but it was her truth. Her mouse hovered over the “Post” button. For a moment, her hand shook. Then, with a deep breath, she clicked.

The sun was setting, painting the room in warm gold and soft shadows. Nora stood before a canvas, brush poised but unmoving. “You’re not painting,” Jaden said quietly. “I am,” she replied, though her hand trembled slightly. “You’ve been staring at that same spot for ten minutes.” She sighed and lowered the brush. “I don’t know what I’m afraid of more. I'm messing it up… or getting it right.” Jaden stepped closer, careful, slow. “Art’s not about perfection, Nora. It’s about truth.”

“A delivery for you, Mrs. Ravencroft. A courier said it was urgent.” “From who?” “He didn’t say.” Arwen took the box to her bed and opened it. Inside was everything an artist could dream of—professional-grade oil paints, real sable brushes, pristine canvases, all organized in a beautiful wooden case. At the bottom was a small card. One line in sharp, precise handwriting: For the woman you are when you’re not performing. No signature. But she knew that handwriting. Caelum. Another knock. “Mr. Ravencroft asked me to tell you the supplies came from Maison d’Art on Fifth Avenue. He said you mentioned loving that shop in an interview.”