Artwork Dump Novels & Stories

Enzo entered behind me and shut the door. “Sit,” I said. The room moved again as the men took their seats. Adriano watched me carefully for a moment before continuing. He tapped the screen and the map shifted. “This is the updated layout for the auction event,” he said. The image zoomed into the main gallery hall. Rows of display stands appeared across the screen, each marked with numbers and security zones. “The art collection arrived this afternoon,” he continued. “Twenty-three paintings in total. All authenticated, insured, and currently stored in the lower vault.”

I snatch up a shot of vodka from someone’s limp hand and fling it onto the canvas. “What do you—oh my God! Stop it!” Damn. Nowhere near as much liquor as I wanted for this, but it’ll have to suffice. I steal another glass and slosh it around the painting as best as I can. Daphne grabs my wrist, eyes wide with panic. “You’re ruining five million dollars’ worth of art!” I use my other hand to reach into my back pocket and pull out my lighter. Even more horrified gasps fill the air, including a yelp from Ewing himself.

Jacob sighed again and said, “I'm sad because everyone else can find good works, but I can't. All of them have been in this field for a long time and know some collectors. They can borrow some artworks for the exhibition simply by using their connections but I’m helpless. I went to see Zachary, but he's not dealing with calligraphy and painting anymore. He's focused on making a fortune by selling a broken piece of wood to rip people off. I don’t have any other ways apart from him…” With that said, Jacob complained with a displeased expression, “What's most annoying is those association members. Not only can I not find any works, but each time they find one, they will make an arrangement for

Adrian POV The warehouse light shone brightly on us and on rows of heavy crates stacked in order. Each crate was marked and sealed. “Final check,” I said calmly. “You’re sure all original items have been moved to our vault?” Across from me, Mr Kendall pushed up his glasses and nodded. “Yes, sir,” he replied. “The authentic artefacts sent to the Imperial Crown Auction were intercepted at the port as planned. Everything is safe in our private storage.” “And these?” I tapped the nearest create with my knuckles.

My apartment smelled faintly of vanilla candles and coffee, everything warm, soft, and peaceful. The world still made sense and my wedding countdown app blinked on my phone: 58 days until forever. I stared at the screen a moment too long with heart swelling. Liam and I had been together three years. We met at a gallery exhibition…I was sketching, he was pretending to understand abstract art. He smiled at me like I was the only real thing in the room. And for a long time, I believed I was. My phone buzzed again. This time, it was a text from Adira.

"You're not going to stop?" I dropped the Cotton and then held his gaze. "Unlike you, he appreciates my art. All it took was just one look, and he could tell the emotion coursing through my veins as I painted. It was one of my bad pieces, and he wanted to make it the centerpiece of the Umbra art collection. All you've ever had to say about my art was how it was a waste of time and that it would amount to nothing"

What would you think if I did the same with another man? Zachary's face contorted in anger. "Lindsey Ford, could you not be so disgusting with your words? "Bianca did it to celebrate her body as a form of art. It was about confidence and breaking free from the chains. She wore that to explore her own body. You wouldn't understand it." He looked at me with disgust before continuing, "I was contributing to art. If you think it's disgusting, it's because you know nothing about its beauty. Not only that, you're just jealous and can't take it when someone else's outstanding."

"Why reveal yourself?" "Because the game is more interesting if both players know the board. Consider this my introductory move. The funds I took are being used to establish a decentralized archive. A true commons for digital art, proofed against any single entity's control—yours, a government's, anyone's. It will exist in the cracks. A little chaos in your order." Jay studied the phantom. This was not a rival seeking territory. This was an ideologue, an artist of chaos. A new, unpredictable variable.

The "secure storage unit" arrived two days later. It was not, as I might have imagined, a locked steel cabinet. It was a beautifully crafted, low wooden trolley on smooth-rolling casters. It had three deep drawers labeled with neat, typed tags: SUBSTRATES (Paper/Cardstock), PIGMENTS & APPLICATORS, and 3D MEDIA & ADHESIVES. Inside were the promised artist-grade supplies, organized with a librarian's precision. Luther had even included a small, industrial-style lamp that clipped to the edge of the trolley.

I went to bed early, exhaustion finally catching up. Before I went to sleep, I checked the tracker again. It stared back at me, small, indifferent. I shook my head and dropped the jacket on the chair as if shedding a weight. The next day at the office Mr. Everhart asked to see me after hours, so I didn’t wait for the close. When I arrived he was joined by his lawyer and account manager. The Gravemont had arrived with payment, they’d kept their promise. Cash, stacks of it, was counted and routed into Mr. Everhart’s accounts. Original art paintings, not replicas, were catalogued and carried into his private collection. Watching them move with that casual certainty, an idea slid into my mind.