The Vanishing Portrait

chapter 5

The days that followed felt like a strange blur for Lana. The image of the woman’s eyes, those hauntingly desperate eyes, never left her mind. It was as if the portrait had woven itself into her thoughts, lingering in the corners of her consciousness. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw them again—the woman’s silent plea for help.

But life at the Lauren Gallery had to continue. Despite the unease gnawing at her, Lana threw herself into her work. The research she had been assigned was demanding, and the need to stay focused helped her stave off the creeping dread. However, no matter how hard she tried, the memory of the portrait lingered, clinging to her like a shadow.

One afternoon, as she sifted through a pile of research papers, trying to immerse herself in the gallery’s upcoming exhibition, the sound of heels clicking against the floor broke her concentration. She looked up, startled, and saw Minji approaching, a worried expression on her face.

“Lana, can we talk for a minute?” Minji asked, her voice quieter than usual.

Lana nodded, setting aside the papers. “Of course, Minji. What’s going on?”

Minji glanced around, her eyes darting to the door as if checking for anyone else nearby. “I’ve been meaning to ask you about something. I know this might sound strange, but… have you seen the portrait?”

Lana felt a jolt run through her. She had been wondering how long it would take before someone else mentioned it. She swallowed, trying to keep her composure. “What portrait?”

Minji leaned in slightly, her voice low. “The one in the basement. The one no one really talks about.”

Lana’s heart skipped a beat. “You mean the woman in the painting?”

Minji nodded, her eyes wide. “Yeah. I’ve seen it, and I know you have, too. It’s been a part of the gallery’s collection for years, but it’s always been… off. No one knows the full history behind it. It’s just… there. But every time I go near it, I feel like it’s watching me. Like it’s alive in some way.”

Lana’s throat tightened. Minji’s words matched her own feelings about the portrait. She wanted to ask more questions, to understand what was happening, but something held her back. She wasn’t sure she could explain what she had seen, let alone what she had heard.

“What… what happened to the woman in the painting?” Lana asked hesitantly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Minji’s eyes flickered nervously, and she lowered her voice even further. “That’s the thing, Lana. No one knows. There’s no record of her in any of the gallery’s archives. We tried to research her once, years ago, but everything came up empty. It’s like she doesn’t exist… except for in that painting.”

Lana’s mind raced. “But… that can’t be right. She *has* to be someone. She looked so real. Her eyes—” She stopped herself, realizing she was almost speaking out loud, revealing too much of what she had experienced. “It’s just strange, that’s all.”

Minji nodded, her face pale. “I know. And the weirdest part is, people say that those who get too close to that portrait… well, they start to feel different. Like something is watching them. And sometimes… sometimes, people disappear.”

The words hung in the air like a heavy fog. Lana blinked, trying to process what Minji had just said. “Disappear?”

Minji bit her lip. “Not in the way you’re thinking. They don’t just vanish. But they change. Become distant. Unfocused. Some even leave the gallery without saying a word. It’s like they’ve been… consumed by it.”

Lana shuddered, feeling a chill seep into her bones. The more she heard, the more her curiosity deepened. What was this portrait hiding? What was its connection to the gallery and to Aiden Lauren’s family?

Before she could ask more, the office door opened, and the air seemed to shift. Aiden stood there, his sharp gaze scanning the room before landing on her and Minji. His presence was like a sudden storm, overwhelming and magnetic.

“Lana,” he said, his voice calm but commanding, “I need you to follow me.”

Lana’s heart skipped in her chest, and she stood up quickly. The way he spoke made her feel both nervous and oddly compelled. “Of course, Mr. Lauren.”

Without another word, Aiden turned and walked out of the office. Lana exchanged a glance with Minji, who gave her a subtle, encouraging nod. As Lana followed Aiden through the gallery, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being pulled into something she didn’t fully understand. Something dangerous, perhaps.

The gallery felt different today. The walls, which had once seemed to hold the world’s most precious artworks, now felt like they were closing in on her. The paintings seemed to shift ever so slightly, the faces of the subjects following her as she walked.

When they reached the back of the gallery, Aiden led her down another narrow hallway, one that Lana had never ventured down before. She had only seen glimpses of it on rare occasions when she was with other staff members, but now it felt like she was being drawn into a part of the gallery that few had ever seen.

The hallway opened into a large room. The air inside was thick, heavy with the scent of oil paints and wood. Lana’s gaze flicked to the walls, where portraits of unfamiliar faces stared back at her. But it wasn’t the portraits that caught her attention; it was the small, antique desk in the center of the room. Aiden stood beside it, motioning for her to come closer.

“Sit,” he said softly, though his tone was not unkind. “I need to speak with you.”

Lana hesitated for a moment before complying. As she sat down, her eyes caught the faintest glimpse of the portrait again, its edges barely visible among the shadows in the far corner of the room. The woman’s eyes seemed to watch her, always watching.

“I know you’ve been asking about the painting,” Aiden began, his voice low and measured. “It’s been a part of this gallery for as long as I can remember. But there’s more to it than you might think.”

Lana’s breath caught in her throat. This was it. The moment she had been waiting for. “What do you mean?”

Aiden’s gaze turned cold. “That portrait isn’t just a piece of art. It’s a part of our family’s history. And not everyone who has tried to uncover its secrets has lived to tell the tale.”

Lana’s heart raced. She had a million questions swirling in her mind, but she remained silent, waiting for Aiden to continue.

“The woman in the portrait,” he said, his voice lowering even further, “is a part of something much darker. A curse, if you will. A curse that has haunted my family for generations. And now, it’s your turn to face it.”

Lana felt the room close in around her. The weight of his words pressed down on her, and for the first time since entering the gallery, she felt a true sense of fear—fear of the unknown, fear of what the portrait represented, and most of all, fear of what it meant for her.