Chapter 10 - The Masterpiece of Life
Three years later, the grand terrace of my villa in Cassis was filled with laughter, music, and the clinking of champagne glasses.
It was the opening night of my most ambitious project yet: an outdoor sculpture biennial dedicated entirely to sensory art, co-curated by myself and Thomas. The terrace was filled with artists, friends, my mother, Doctor Bellanger—who had become a close family friend—and Maître Clarisse Vance, who looked radiant in a bright yellow dress, far removed from her courtroom armor.
In the center of the garden stood the centerpiece of the exhibition: a massive, breathtaking sculpture created by Thomas. It was a beautiful, abstract form carved from pure white Carrara marble, twisting upward toward the sky like a flame. The surface was highly textured—rough and natural at the base, becoming smoother, polished, and translucent as it reached the top, catching the rays of the setting sun.
The title of the piece was carved into the bronze plaque at the base: “La Lumière Retrouvée” (The Light Regained).
Thomas walked up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist, resting his chin on my shoulder as we watched our guests admire the artwork.
"Are you happy, Madame Mercier?" he whispered in my ear. We had been married six months prior in a small, beautiful ceremony on the beach below the villa.
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"I have never been happier, Thomas," I said, leaning back against his chest, feeling the steady, rhythmic beat of his heart.
My mind flashed back for a brief second to that cold March morning in Lyon, four years ago, when the bandages were removed from my eyes. I remembered the terror of the kitchen, the red scarf, the poison, and the crushing
