Page 166 of The Substitute Fiancée

It’s their loss, not mine.

Absentmindedly, I rest a hand on my stomach, where a tiny being is growing, and I smile. I haven’t told Alexander yet, but I know it’s a dream he’s carried for a long time.

I want to surprise him.

While he’s talking with Emelyne and Mara, I make a round of the rooms, buzzing with excitement. Everything is ready: champagne, hors d’oeuvres, lighting. Every detail is in place.

The attention given to our couple had an unexpected effect—both on MatchMapping and on my own visibility. People wanted to discover my work, and some of them could afford to buy it. Tonight, I’m opening my first solo exhibition. Two years after graduating, it’s an achievement I’m proud of.

Guests begin to arrive in droves—around sixty people, carefully selected.

“Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. de La Tour. We’re delighted to welcome you tonight,” says Cédric Levasseur. “This is Samantha Chevalier, the artist whose two works you’ve already acquired.”

I greet them with a nod.

“I believe we’ve met before,” Eva de La Tour says. “At a gala.”

“Exactly. A little over two years ago, shortly before MatchMapping went public.”

“Call me next week,” she adds, handing me her card. “I’d love to feature you at my next gala in support of the Espoir Foundation.”

“It would be an honor.”

Next come Nathan and Héloïse Raynaud, who had also purchased several of my works for the lobby of Phéa Derma.

“Your paintings are creating quite a stir,” Nathan tells me with a smile. “Visitors sometimes forget why they came in the first place.”

My ego is flattered, of course—but what truly matters is seeing how deeply my work moves people.

The evening flies by. I move from group to group, exchanging a few words with everyone.

“Your work is remarkable,” a young man in a three-piece suit tells me, beaming. “How did you achieve such mastery of watercolor? It feels like the light comes straight off the page.”

I take the time to answer him. No sooner do I finish than he asks another question. He’s clearly trying to hold my attention, and even if he’s attractive—and undoubtedly very wealthy—only one man matters to me.

A little apart, surrounded by our friends, Alexander watches me with quiet pride, never trying to impose himself. I excuse myself and join him.

“Everything okay?” I ask.

He answers with a sincere smile, without the slightest shadow.

“Perfect. This is your night. Enjoy your guests.”

“I know some of them can be a bit… persistent.”

His smile widens.

“They’re under your spell—like I am. But don’t worry. I don’t feel threatened. You’ve never given me a single reason to doubt your love. So go on.”

The evening ends far too quickly. It’s a success: more than half of my works have been sold.

“To Sam and her success!” Emelyne declares as we have dinner together afterward.

“To Sam!”

“And what are you going to do with your earnings?” David asks.

“I’m going to sign the lease on the artist studio I’ve been dreaming of. My work is fairly solitary, and this space will let me be around other artists, share creative energy.”