3. Lorraine
Lorraine stepped out of the cab and into the cool night air, the earthy scent of damp soil and blooming jasmine wrapping around her like a welcome-home embrace. Her small countryside cottage stood a few miles outside the city—modest, charming, and completely hers. She had bought it two years ago with her first major royalty check, choosing peace over luxury, nature over noise.
As she approached the gate, a familiar soft meow greeted her. A chubby cat with mismatched eyes trotted over, tail high and purring like a tiny motor.
Lorraine Winifred/Fl
There you are bubble
She smiled, scooping him up and nuzzling her face into his fur.
Lorraine Winifred/Fl
Did you guard the garden again while I was gone?
The garden was her pride and therapy. Rows of vibrant vegetables stretched behind the cottage—carrots, kale, tomatoes, and even bell peppers. Fruit trees lined one side, and a scatter of wildflowers danced beneath them, painting the edges of her world in color.
Inside, the cottage was cozy and lived-in. A couch with faded cushions, books stacked in every corner, and art supplies littered across a sturdy wooden table. Watercolors, sketchpads, and graphic tablets lay like remnants of her inner world.
She fed Bubble, humming softly as he happily dug into his meal, then changed into a loose shirt and soft cotton shorts. After a quick rinse, she tied her hair up and began her nightly chores—watering the plants, wiping down surfaces, and preparing a simple dinner of roasted vegetables and herb rice.
Dinner was quiet, like most nights. But tonight, her thoughts drifted back to the man at the auction
He hadn’t introduced himself, but the weight of his presence had lingered long after he walked away. He wasn’t handsome in a conventional way—but there was something still and piercing about him. Like he was always watching the world from behind some invisible glass
And yet… he listened to her. Without interrupting. Without laughing
She sipped her water, brushing a stray curl from her cheek
Lorraine Winifred/Fl
Who even was that man?**she whispered to herself**
Bubble/Fl Cat
Meow**curling up at her feet**
Lorraine Winifred/Fl
**smiled faintly**
Already sketching him in her mind—quiet eyes, sharp jaw, and a silence that said more than words ever could
Lorraine went to her bedroom for rest leaving bubble in her small house
She started to think about why she went to Auction
Lorraine Winifred never planned to attend the auction that night. She preferred to stay behind the scenes, cloaked in anonymity, quietly creating worlds through ink and dialogue. But when her close friend and art mentor, Professor Ansel Merrick, fell ill with the flu just hours before he was set to present a restoration report on a rare bronze sculpture at the auction, he called Lorraine in a panic.
Ansel Merrick/Fl Mentor
You’re the only one I trust with this piece **he croaked over the phone**
Ansel Merrick/Fl Mentor
Just go, hand in the report, answer basic questions, and disappear before anyone tries to drag you into small talk.”
Lorraine groaned, but agreed. She owed the professor too much to say no. He’d been the first to encourage her illustrations, long before her secret identity as the wildly successful comic artist 'RaeWin' had made her a fortune. More importantly, she adored the sculpture—a twisted, haunting figure that had inspired one of her most emotionally raw comic panels
She arrived wearing her favorite oversized trench coat, hair pulled back messily, glasses slightly fogged from the sudden shift from cold night to warm gallery. She expected to drop off the report, give a quick explanation to the curator, and leave unnoticed
But then she saw the sculpture under harsh lighting, its anguish lost among glittering gowns and hollow admiration. Her empathy stirred, and she couldn’t help whispering to it like an old friend
That’s when he appeared. Cold voice. Sharp gaze. Richer than everyone else in the room combined. He wasn’t just looking at her—he was studying her
She had no idea who Rafael Blackwood was. But something about him felt both dangerous and fascinating
And, unknowingly, she had just stepped into the orbit of a man whose world rarely let people walk back out
Lorraine was curled up on her bed, sketchbook in hand, when her phone buzzed. Seeing Ansel Merrick flash across the screen, she answered with a soft smile.
Lorraine Winifred/Fl
Hello📞
Ansel Merrick/Fl Mentor
Well? **his raspy voice crackled**Did you survive the sharks?
Lorraine Winifred/Fl
**She chuckled**Barely. I handed in the report, everything happen peacefully
Ansel Merrick/Fl Mentor
**he Sighed in relief**You did good, kid. Remind me to never get sick again
Lorraine Winifred/Fl
Noted**she teased**
Ansel Merrick/Fl Mentor and close friend
38 yrs old
Profession:
Renowned Art Historian, Restoration Expert, and Professor at a prestigious fine arts institute. He specializes in ancient sculptures and forgotten artifacts, often called upon by museums and collectors around the world for his sharp eye and deep knowledge.
Personality:
Ansel is a brilliant yet eccentric man in his early thirtes, with Stern face, black-streaked hair, and glasses that are always slipping down his nose. He has the soul of an artist and the mind of a scholar. Known for his dry humor, theatrical mannerisms, and endearing grumpiness, he’s a mentor who challenges his students with tough love and fiercely protects the ones he believes in.
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