Jean-Luc’s face went pale. “Last? Chloe, you can’t retire. You are the standard.”

“Chloe,” he whispered, not wanting to break the spell. “The critics are here. The collectors from Dubai, New York… everyone.”

“The ultimate goal,” she said, “is to become the one who holds the brush.”

The room gasped.

She turned and walked toward the exit. A young journalist chased after her. “Chloe! One last question! What’s next? What is the ultimate goal now?”

Chloe paused at the door, the cold Parisian air kissing her cheeks. She looked back at the painting one final time.

“You were the most requested model in the world,” he countered.