The fallout didn’t wait.

By morning, it was everywhere.

Amara knew something had shifted the moment she walked into the gallery and felt it — a subtle tension threading through the air, heavier than nerves, sharper than anticipation. Conversations dipped when she passed. Smiles came a second too late. Phones were checked more often than usual.

Miguel met her halfway across the main hall, his expression grim.

“It’s started,” he said quietly.

She didn’t ask what.

They stepped into the office and closed the door.

Miguel pulled out his tablet and turned the screen toward her. “Three outlets picked it up overnight. Not front-page, but prominent enough.”

Amara scanned the...