She set down her almond milk and looked up at me. A calculating smile curled the corner of her mouth.
"I have a private jewelry showcase this afternoon. I need professional still-life photography for the rare gemstones and design sketches, to put together a promotional catalog. The new photographers are all subpar, so I specifically requested you. The Godfather agreed."
My body went rigid. My blood felt like it had frozen solid in my veins.
A private jewelry showcase? Professional still-life photography?
I hadn't touched a camera since my mother died.
The moment I saw that black camera body, the moment I looked through that cold viewfinder, the memories came flooding in, beyond my control. My mother sitting at her desk, guiding my hands, teaching me how to photograph jewelry designs. My mother in front of the lens, radiating confidence as she presented her newest collection. And my mother, the light draining from her eyes, shattered by the news that her patents had been leaked.
That was the deepest wound I carried. The one I could never bear to touch.
Samuel knew that better than anyone.