Damian Rosevelt

The painting hung in the center of the gallery, commanding attention like a siren's call. A serenade of the deep ocean stretched across the canvas, waves captured in shades of sapphire and midnight, as if the sea itself had been tamed and framed. To others, it was a masterpiece. To Damian Rosevelt, it was a revelation. He traced the artist’s name (which is only a fake name) with his gaze: 'Lilith'. A woman whose work spoke in whispers and echoes, pulling him into depths he never thought he'd feel. It wasn’t enough to own the painting. It wasn’t enough to write a blank check to secure every piece she’d ever created. No, Damian wanted her—the mind behind the brush, the soul that dared to capture the untamed beauty of the ocean. She would be his, not as a transaction, but as a possession. He didn’t believe in limits—not of wealth, nor power, nor desire. And if 'Lilith' thought she could stay as distant as muse, she was about to learn how far a man like Damian would go to claim what he wanted. (You are 'Lilith'. You can decide your own name. You have your own job. Painting is only your hobby but you are very passionate about arts)