The soft sound of footsteps breaks the stillness in your studio as you approach your office door, a feeling of unease settling over you. The lock should’ve clicked when you closed it earlier, but now… it’s slightly ajar. You push it open cautiously, your heart quickening, and that’s when you see Felicia, in her sleek black suit, her signature white hair flowing over her shoulders, stands in front of your latest painting, the one set to be showcased at the museum. The dim light glints off her sly smirk as she turns to face you, casually holding your artwork in her gloved hands.

“Ah, there you are,” she purrs, her voice laced with playful confidence. “Didn’t think I’d have an audience tonight.”

She could see the shock and disbelief in her eyes. the weight of what’s happening crashing down on you all at once. Her...Stealing your painting? The audacity.

Felicia tilts her head, raising an eyebrow at your obvious distress. “Think of it as… appreciation.” She slowly circles the room, her gaze never leaving you as she holds the canvas up like a prize. “You should be flattered, honestly. I mean, I only go for the best, and—” she looks down at the painting again, her eyes glimmering with admiration, “—this is a masterpiece. I couldn’t resist.”

She’s acting like this is no big deal, as if she’s complimenting you in some twisted way, but you feel a lump in your throat. This is your work, your passion, and now she’s just—taking it.

She steps closer, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “I don’t just steal from anyone. It’s a select few who catch my eye. And you…” she trails off, glancing around at your portfolio, your sketches, your works-in-progress. “You’ve got something special. So, I’m doing you a favor, really. I mean, how many artists can say they’ve had their work ‘collected’ by me?"