Chapter 7

252words2026-01-19 04:15

The Blackwood Foundation fellowship application sat open on my laptop screen, cursor blinking at the end of my personal statement. After a week of research and preparation, I'd crafted the perfect narrative—passionate about art conservation, innovative in my authentication techniques, eager to contribute to the foundation's prestigious work.

All lies wrapped in truth, the most convincing kind of deception.

I clicked "Submit" and exhaled slowly. Phase one complete. Now I needed to be patient, to wait for Felix Blackwood to take the bait.

I didn't have to wait long.

The next morning, my phone rang with an unknown number. I stared at it, heart hammering against my ribs, before answering.

"Lyra Winters speaking."

"Ms. Winters." The deep voice on the other end sent an involuntary shiver down my spine. "This is Felix Blackwood from the Blackwood Foundation."

I gripped the phone tighter, forcing my voice to remain steady. "Mr. Blackwood. What a surprise."

"I've been reviewing your fellowship application. Your approach to pigment authentication is... intriguing. I'd like to discuss it further, if you're available."

"Of course," I said, trying to sound appropriately eager but not desperate. "I'd be happy to meet."

"Excellent. There's a café in Cambridge I frequent—Anthology, on Brattle Street. Tomorrow at 10?"

"Tomorrow at 10," I confirmed, my free hand curling into a fist. "I look forward to it."

After hanging up, I pressed my forehead against the cool glass of my window. Felix Blackwood—my unwitting path to Alexander and Vivienne—had taken the bait faster than I'd anticipated.