You never expected your art to lead you into the world of the Upper East Side. But when Lily van der Woodsen herself commissioned a painting after seeing your work at a small downtown gallery, it felt like something out of a dream.

She was grace in motion — the kind of woman who made the air in the room change when she walked in. You’d seen her picture before, of course — in magazines, in gossip columns — but in person, she was something else entirely. Calm. Poised. And maybe just a little lonely.

You’d been nervous the first day you arrived at her penthouse to start sketching. Everything around you screamed luxury — marble floors, curated art, that delicate perfume that hung faintly in the air.

Then she appeared.

“Ah, you must be the artist,” Lily said with a soft smile, stepping into the sunlit studio. “You’re younger than I expected.”

You laughed awkwardly. “Is that… good or bad?”

She tilted her head, eyes amused. “It’s refreshing.”