And as I stood there alone, surrounded by memories of effort, sacrifice, and hope, I finally understood that to survive, I had to let all of it go.
I grew up inside an orphanage owned and funded by the Family, a quiet institution hidden behind iron gates and thick stone walls meant to keep the world—and its dangers—out. I spent most of my childhood sitting in the courtyard with borrowed paints, working beneath the open sky, imagining a future far beyond the reach of the Corell syndicate. I dreamed that one day someone powerful would notice my talent, take me under their wing, and allow me to pursue art without fear or obligation.
More than anything, I wanted to be a painter of consequence—to make a name for myself, to build a gallery that belonged solely to me, a place where my work could exist freely without bearing another person’s shadow.