Chapter 4 - The First Time Mariana Said No
Rosa wanted to call Alejandro immediately.
Mariana stopped her.
“That’s what he expects.”
“Then we call the police.”
“And tell them what?”
“That he stole your work.”
“He bought the box it was in.”
Rosa opened her mouth.
Then closed it.
The sale receipt from nine years earlier described “studio contents, artwork, files, frames, and miscellaneous materials.”
Rosa had signed it.
If Mariana’s paintings were inside those boxes, ownership would not be simple.
Authorship was another question.
That distinction mattered.
Mariana had learned that the hard way.
The next morning, they met with an attorney named Rachel Kim in a Midtown office recommended by a nonprofit supporting working artists.
Rachel listened without interrupting.
She did not promise them a miracle.
She asked for documents.
Contracts.
Emails.
Photographs.
Tax records.
Old exhibition catalogs.
Anything showing when Mariana created the disputed paintings.
Then she asked the question Rosa had been avoiding.
“Did you ever sign an agreement with Mr. Vega?”
Mariana nodded.
“What kind?”
“A studio-services agreement.”
Rosa turned toward her.
“When?”
“Two years ago.”
Mariana had believed Alejandro was hiring her to produce backgrounds, underpaintings, and technical studies for gallery projects while she recovered from burnout.
The money went directly toward Rosa’s loan.
Mariana had not realized how broad the contract language was until Alejandro began assigning complete canvases.
Celeste received the finished work.
Mariana received monthly payments.
When she objected, Alejandro reminded her that Vega Fine Arts Holdings controlled Rosa’s debt.
“He never said, ‘Paint this or your mother loses her house,’” Mariana said.
“He didn't need to.”
Rachel asked, “Did Celeste know?”
Mariana looked at the floor.
“Yes.”
That answer changed everything emotionally, if not legally.
Celeste had visited the studio.
Selected colors.
Rejected canvases.
Posed for photographs beside unfinished pieces.
She knew exactly who was painting them.
Rachel leaned back.
“We separate the issues. Ownership of the old canvases. Authorship and attribution. The newer commissioned works. The mortgage leverage. And the archive.”
Rosa looked at Mariana.
“What’s in the archive?”
Mariana hesitated.
“I don't know everything.”
“But you know enough to be afraid.”
“Yes.”
Rachel closed her notebook.
“Then the first thing you do is stop creating new work for them.”
Mariana went pale.
“If I stop—”
Rosa reached across the table.
“Let him come after the house.”
Mariana looked up.
Rosa had spent nine years protecting that house because it was the last place Tomas had lived.
Now she finally understood what protecting it had cost her daughter.
“I'm not letting you pay for my walls anymore.”
That afternoon Mariana sent Alejandro one sentence.
I will not produce any additional work under Celeste Davenport’s name.
May you like
His reply arrived less than a minute later.
Then I’ll exercise every right I have.
