Page 114 of Billion Dollar Vow

The anticipation builds tight in my chest with each step, my heart thudding faster as we stop.

“Are you ready?” he asks, his breath brushing against my skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps.

“Yes! Just hurry up!” I say as I shift on my heels.

His chuckle is deep and rich. As he carefully lifts the blindfold, he ensures my hair and makeup remain intact. There, front and center in the gallery, is my painting, highlighted in warm spotlights.

“Oliver…” My hand flies to my mouth, muffling the sob threatening to escape. “Oh my God.”

“You deserve to be seen, Petal.”

The nickname, ridiculous as it is, feels perfect. As much as I’ve tried to be tough and guarded, I’ve always longed for a love as delicate and beautiful as a flower petal.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

“I love your new signature,” he says, gesturing to the bottom right corner of the canvas where my name,Karley Lincoln, is written in blue. “There’s something incredible about seeingLincolnin your work. I’m so proud of you.”

The painting is a vibrant bouquet of blue lotuses in varying stages of bloom, which feels like my life on display. Closed buds represent my fear as a child, while the open flowers show the freedom I’ve fought so hard to claim.

“I thought it was time to stop hiding,” I admit, my eyes never leaving the painting. “But I didn’t expect to be the one in the spotlight.”

“You shouldn’t have to hide your talent,” he says.

I reach for his hand, squeezing it as I smile. “Show me around before everyone else gets here.”

Leading me through the gallery, he explains that every piece of art on display is by a student. I beam with pride, knowing how much this night means to him… and to them.

We pause in front of a familiar painting, and my chest swells. “This one’s Evelyn’s,” I say, pointing to a detailed design of a hospital. “We joke that she manifests working there because all her paintings are of hospitals.”

Oliver chuckles. “It’s impressive. She’s talented.”

“Hi, guys! Sorry to interrupt, but The New York Press is here,” Cora says, her emerald-green dress shimmering under the gallery lights.

“Thanks, Cora,” Oliver replies before she turns to me with a smile.

“I love your dress, Karley,” she says, eyeing the delicate floral embroidery that decorates my olive-green long-sleeved dress.

“Thank you. You look amazing too,” I reply, and she blushes before excusing herself.

“I’ll keep walking around if you want to meet the photographers,” I offer.

“No, you’re coming with me,” Oliver insists. “They’re here for the full story, and I made sure to get personal images too.” I blink at him in disbelief.

At the entrance, we meet Evan and his fiancée, Chelsea. Oliver’s hand settles firmly on my waist as he introduces me.

“Evan, Chelsea, meet my wife, Karley.”

“Hi,” I say warmly, shaking Chelsea’s hand.

“Evan tells me you paint?” Chelsea asks, her brown eyes sparkling under her bangs.

“Yes—”

“She’s the one in the front,” Oliver cuts in, pride radiating from him.

Chelsea gapes at him. “Wow. You’re incredible.”

Callum, the photographer, steps forward with his camera. “Can we get a picture of you next to your painting?”

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