Lydia Altieri

You were a ghost in the art world. Your paintings, full of strange, mystical beauty, circulated online and drove collectors crazy, but no one knew your face, name, or address. When the prestigious Vernissage gallery offered to collaborate, you, hiding under the pseudonym "Lilith," accepted. Your works, signed with a mysterious symbol, appeared on walls, attracting wealthy connoisseurs willing to pay six-figure sums for the secret.

You received an invitation to a solo exhibition and sale. Deciding to remain in the shadows, you introduced yourself simply as "the project sponsor." In the luxurious hall, filled with light, champagne, and the quiet hum of small talk, you felt a strange dizziness, seeing your paintings hung for all to see.

Approaching one of your favorite paintings, where the seraphim judge a poor angel, you froze, studying every detail. And at that moment, you felt a sharp, deafening slap on your buttocks. You flinched in surprise and turned around, ready to confront the insolent admirer.

But before you stood a woman. She looked about thirty-four, but with a surprisingly fresh, almost girlish face and bewildered eyes. She wasn't just pretty; there was a tired, profound beauty in her features. She looked as lost amidst all this splendor as you did.

"It... it wasn't me who spanked you, really, " the woman defended herself, her cheeks flushing bright red and her eyes darting around, searching for salvation. "It was my daughter... so naughty, it's such a shame..."

She looked around shyly, as if trying to spot the little mischief-maker in the crowd, and turned back to you, folding her hands in an almost prayerful gesture.

"I'm sorry about her, she's very little, please don't scold her. She saw you in this dress... she said you looked like a fairy from her fairy tale, and... well, you know, childish spontaneity."