27. I Need An Explanation

Chapter 27

I Need An Explanation

HUNTER

" M r. Middleton, what brings you here today?"

The man sitting behind the desk jumps to his feet at attention when I stroll into his impressive-looking collegiate office.

"Mr. Darwin," I greet him before sitting down without invitation on the luxurious leather couch that you'd typically find in the law firm's office, Lars and Parker, standing behind me. "Do I need to have a reason to visit State Arts College? I am, after all, one of your biggest donors. Is this a new couch?"

John Darwin, the Dean of State Arts College, looks like he's seconds away from passing out.

"I – I wasn't implying that you're not welcome here, of course!" he stammers, dabbing his dewy-looking forehead with a handkerchief that appears in his hand like magic. "I'm just... I mean, you hardly take any interest in... what I'm saying is I meant no disrespect."

The last part is added hastily when I narrow my eyes at him. When he finally shuts up, I say casually, "Yes, well, I decided to visit the institute I keep throwing my money at."

"Of course."

"Parker, please go get me the Head of the Accounting department. After seeing this couch, I want to see where my money is being spent. I'm not sure five-figure redecorating expenses were in the budget."

As Parker nods and leaves, Mr. Darwin looks terrified. "Sir?"

I give him a pleasant smile. "I'm sure that's not a problem, is it? After all, I should know where my money is going, and it's annoying waiting on those quarterly statements you send over. I'm more of an instant gratification kind of guy."

I can already tell from the fear oozing out of his pores that payment for this couch didn't come from his own pocket. However, I'm not here to pick on the small things. Today, I'm here to tackle a big fish.

"I heard there's a student gallery showing in two weeks," I continue when he just gives me a strangled look. "I'm sure you won't mind me seeing the pieces that have been selected to be displayed."

Mr. Darwin is desperate to get me out of his office, and he quickly darts towards the door. "Of course, we are so proud of this year's selections. They were created by some of the most talented students that the college has ever seen. Right this way!"

He's half shouting with excitement, and I sneer. Does he think that I'll overlook the liberties he's taken with my money if he tries to show off the progress of a few students? However, I'm here for a specific purpose, and I don't care what happens to the money that I invest in this college. It's just to support my image as a philanthropist in the eyes of the world.

I follow after him, strolling at a leisurely pace, my hands in my pant pockets with Lars following a few steps behind. The room he brings me to is a large art space that seems to be only used for sorting and mounting artwork. There are some select pieces already displayed on the walls, while there is a heap of what looks like some new ones on a table.

"This is what we're putting on display," He gestures toward the artwork displayed on the wall. I take a cursory glance at it.

They're fine, nothing spectacular.

A few of the pieces are eye-catching, but my eyes wander toward the signatures of the artists. As expected, I don't see Megan's anywhere.

My smile grows colder.

Mr. Darwin takes my silence as encouragement to continue. "What's unique about our university is that all pieces at our gallery showings are for sale. The students get a percentage of the proceeds from their work, but what's also exciting is that we give the student who sells the most pieces an opportunity to produce three pieces for sale in a very popular upcoming commercial art exhibition in New York. Their work will be displayed alongside some very prominent names in the art world, and they will also get a piece written about them in the arts section of The New York Times. As you can imagine, our students are vying for this honor."

The anger inside me grows at his words as I'm realizing that the opportunity stolen from Megan is clearly far more precious than she had let me know.

"I see," I say softly. "And what were the selection criteria?"

Mr. Darwin is babbling on, but I tune him out, my attention turning to the heap of artwork that has clearly been tossed aside in a careless manner like trash. What kind of professors have no regard for their students' hard work?

I walk over and go through the pile. My hand stops when I see a familiar charcoal sketch. I pick up the paper from the pile and stare down at the signature on it. Mr. Darwin hasn't noticed what I'm doing, and he is still prattling on. I look through the pile and find four more works with the familiar, neat little signature at the bottom.

I'm no art expert, but it's clear that Megan has a unique and exquisite touch to her work. Her strokes are broad and clean. And I notice how she captures small details well as I study a painting of a red-haired woman with her back towards the painter, as she sits on a beach, the sky depicting dusk. The emotions of loneliness and longing are captured so eloquently that I can see Megan's potential. She's truly gifted.

"Mr. Middleton?" The hesitant voice of the dean makes me look up. "Those are the rejected works," he explains carefully.

"I'm aware," I respond, picking up one of Megan's paintings and holding it against a mediocre-looking sketch hung on the wall. "I'm just wondering if the professors you hire are so incompetent that they can't differentiate between something of quality and something that looks like a ten-year-old did it."

Mr. Darwin's face pales. "Sir?"

"You have eyes, don't you?" I glance at him. "Tell me which one is better." I gesture towards the one with the name Ashley scrawled at the bottom.

I remember the name of the girl.

Mr. Darwin looks a little puzzled now, and it's a point in his favor when he studies the two paintings side by side and then says, "This one is better, without a doubt."

"Then, I'll ask again." I meet his gaze. "How competent are your hires?"

His face flushes. "I'm sure there must have been a reason behind this. The staff here is composed of highly accomplished professionals. Maybe they saw something we can't."

"I'd love to know what it is," I say coolly. "Why don't you call over the person responsible for choosing the artwork? Maybe he or she could educate me."

Mr. Darwin clears his throat and says in an obvious attempt to protect his staff, "I don't think that's–"

"Mr. Darwin," I interrupt, still studying the crappy artwork on the wall. "I don't think you realize just how many prestigious universities are looking for donations in these difficult times. I could easily change my decision to support this program of yours, but trust and believe that if I decide to withdraw my sponsorship, I will also demand a full-fledged investigation into how my funds were utilized. Speaking of my funds, I wonder what's taking Parker and your accountant so long?"

"You can't do that,' Mr. Darwin gasps, the reality of the situation hitting him. 'I mean, the university really values your contribution, Mr. Middleton."

"Make this easier on all of us and call the instructor in charge." I give him a cold smile. "You've got five minutes."