Page 59 of Billion Dollar Dispute

I laugh harder, glancing at Harvey, who doesn’t seem fazed. If anything, he looks warmly at his brother.

“She’s not,” Harvey says bluntly, but not unkindly.

I’m not offended. Harvey says it like it is, and it helps me relax into the chair and sip my drink. I give myself a moment to enjoy my hard work.

After another sip, I put my drink down, wanting to stay sharp. I’m lucky if I can handle two drinks these days. The boys finish their drinks, and we head back the way we came. Oliver talks about the building’s history and art.

“Sorry about my call earlier. There’s an artist I’m trying to find,” he says bitterly.

His earlier call comes to mind. “They don’t want to be found?”

“Clearly not. But I will. I want to feature them in my new gallery.”

“Which gallery is that?” I ask.

“I haven’t acquired it yet,” Oliver admits.

“The owners want to sell but won’t sell to him,” Harvey explains quietly.

I frown. “Why?”

We reach the main entrance of the gallery, where a large body sculpture takes up the main view. We stand in a circle in front of it.

His face rumples with an annoyed expression. “They think I’m not mature enough.”

“Isn’t Harvey the youngest?” I ask, my eyes flicking between them.

Harvey tilts his head toward me, his jaw working in a tight circle. “Hey. I’m proving I’m a lot more than just a little brother.”

I shake my head. “I’m just trying to understand the issue.”

“Yes, I’m the second youngest,” Oliver says. “But like Harvey, I’m single. The gallery owners want to sell it to a new version of themselves.”

Questions keep gnawing at me. “Which is?”

A shadow comes over his face. “A happily married young couple who’s passionate about art,” Oliver explains.

Harvey’s eyebrows shoot up. “But you’re not even dating.”

Oliver flashes a sad smirk. “I’m well aware.”

I roll my lips at the tension. It’s cute brotherly banter, but at the same time, I get a twinge of pain when I’m reminded Chad will never have a sibling, and how I missed out on having one myself. I had planned a big family with my ex-husband, but things changed after Chad. Plus, conceiving Chad wasn’t easy, and now I’ve given up hope.

“Do we need to leave the sculpture here?” I ask, trying to shift the focus.

Oliver sighs as he looks at the large piece. “No, I can move it. Why?”

I point to the pieces around it. “If we place it off-center, it’ll still stand out, but the other pieces will be visible too.”

He makes a satisfied noise in the back of his throat. “I’ll have it moved.” His eyes return to me.

“Will you be here on Friday?” I ask.

“Yeah, but if not, I can give you a key.”

I blink in surprise at his casual offer. The ease with which he’s willing to hand over the keys reminds me of a time when trust was more freely given and received. God, I miss those days. Now, I’m burdened by past betrayals, constantly second-guessing people’s intentions. It’s a heavy way to live. I crave the lightness I once had, before trust became a risk.

“I just need to let the suppliers in,” I explain.

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