Steal Like An Artist Summary Novels & Stories

"Go ahead. Sue us. We've got nothing left anyway. Since we can't survive out there, we'll just live here from now on." I stared at her, completely baffled. "Seriously? Are you all out of your minds? Your restaurant got shut down, so what? What does that have to do with me? Why should I let you stay in my home?" Curtis looked at me with undisguised contempt. "Didn't think this day would come when you were scamming free meals, did you? You look like a decent person on the outside, but you're disgusting." Scamming free meals?

It was really fate, wasn't it? "Yes! I spent all my savings on your paintings. I had only started to work at Berserkers back then, but I still had some leftover money from my parents. I was still grieving over my parents' death, but seeing your paintings... seeing how positive they were, despite the dark shades, encouraged me to keep fighting. That's why when I saw them, I just had to buy them, no matter the cost," Faith complimented wholeheartedly. It felt like I was being rewarded for all the time I thought was wasted on painting for it to be all in vain. But it seemed like it wasn't in vain, after all. It was a way to connect me and my destined one.

Maleah nodded, "Yes, she was Alisha's assistant. Jayleen couldn't become a designer because of the last incident, but she is Alisha's relative, so they made an exception." Leanna smiled knowingly, "Plagiarism is just like stealing, it's addictive, unless you chop off your hands. Maleah, don't let one rotten fish spoil the whole pot!" Jayleen, standing aside, had a pale face. She couldn't bear it and retorted, "Who can be without mistakes if not saints? And one cannot be blamed for a hundred times!" Leanna really disliked her. In the past, she used to go against Zoey, and later on, she copied Zoey's artwork. Although she wasn't the mastermind, she was also involved.

Jenny Choi’s reputation cracked. A formal investigation was launched. Investors pulled out. Artists terminated their contracts en masse. And we? We rose. We turned our vulnerability into a platform—“Restore the Artist.” A documentary series, artist-led workshops, a traveling exhibition featuring those who had left Choi Collective and returned to us or struck out on their own. The tide shifted again. One evening, I returned to the same blank canvas I’d abandoned weeks ago. I picked up my brush. And this time, I painted. I painted a woman with lightning in her veins and roots in her fists. I painted fire and gold and steel. I painted pain. I painted triumph.

"Last night was a disaster, Leo. We both know that." "I told the truth," Leo said, looking up. His eyes were red-rimmed. "Is that a disaster now?" "The truth is a luxury, Leo. One you can't afford right now." Ivan poured two cups of tea. The steam rose between them, smelling of bergamot and honey. "People don't go to galleries to hear about walls and locks. They go to feel sophisticated. When you tell them you’re a prisoner, you make them feel like accomplices. And people don't buy art from people who make them feel guilty."

I thought of the project, the responsibility, the quiet shift of power that no one could reverse now. This was not desire yet. Not action. Not betrayal. It was alignment. And alignment, I was learning, was far more dangerous than attraction. Because once you find it, everything else feels like compromise.

he showed me pictures of the guys on his tablet and I frowned. "Why?" "Because I want to steal their cars, and the only way possible for me to do that is if your quick fingers slide into their jackets and get those keys for me, and then discreetly give them to me or Adam and we'll take care of the rest," he explained and I stared at him.

“You’re the only one I’ve ever really owned. I need the other things I do down there, but they can’t replace the one thing I can’t get in any moral way. I know it’s wrong to keep you, but I can’t help myself. You’re like a priceless piece of art kept in a glass case. I can’t do anything with it but look at it, but I know it’s mine. And sometimes that’s enough.” Faith wondered if that was why Leo had put her in this room. With all the large windows, it was like a glass case. And she was the fragile figurine he kept inside. “But it’s not enough. You don’t just want to look at me.” His gaze swept over her in such a predatory way, it was as if he’d stripped her bare. “Come here.”

He quickly cleared his throat. “I am in the bathroom.” The other person was about to open when they heard his voice. “Sorry sir I didn’t know it was occupied.” It was one of the junior workers and his voice was shaking from fear. I was relieved my momentum was distu…….. I didn’t finish that as his finger went deep inside. He was not even scared we were almost caught. “How are you calm?” “They are called stolen moments for this reason. The adrenaline, the zeal and anticipation should feel like this.”

he teased, dark amusement flashing in his eyes. I slid into the seat silently, too drained_ too numb to fight. And too afraid of what would happen if I tried to defy him. He got in after me, starting the engine with a low growl. As the car sped away from the college and the carnage behind us I stared out the window, numb. I realized it didn't matter if it was Lewis or Aiden. I was just a prize being passed from one monster to another. And monsters never gave back what they stole.