Cardan And Jude Fanart Novels & Stories

Last time he talked to Rhett, he’d called him a Joker and handed him a joker card from his newly opened deck. Rhett loved his expensive cards. It was so beautiful. The joker card could’ve been on display in an art museum. All black with a CGI-inspired tessellated profile—the whole deck had cost hundreds, glimmered like diamonds, and smelled like money. An artist had handcrafted each image, spending days on every card. There was so much detail in the Joker. Dark lines outlined him. On his face, he wore a huge silly grin, but in the background, a mirror stood against the wall. There, the Joker frowned and tears streamed down his face.

Cool and smooth—it carried an ancient serenity. Carefully, she placed it back in the box and closed the lid. “There. That’s better,” Roman beamed, lifting his teacup again, his eyes full of satisfaction and something deeper—something quietly determined. Dutton, in his tailored black suit, handed over a sleek gold card his assistant had brought. He placed it on the table and slid it across to her. “This is a Gold Artisan Card. With it, you’ll have access to any international arts association’s events—galas, exhibitions, concerts—anywhere in the world’s capitals.

She fidgeted in her seat, her eyes darting anxiously to the entrance each time someone walked in, her heart leaping with false hope again and again. Until finally—A man in a tailored business suit entered. “I’m sorry for the delay,” he said, approaching the officers. “The boss is currently in a meeting. I was sent as his representative.” Belle looked up. Her heart sank. It wasn’t him. “This is the CEO’s black card,” the manager explained eagerly, showing it to the man. “We recognize it anywhere. Only a few people in the country own one. Yet today, it was used by… her.” His tone carried thinly veiled disdain.