“A haunting, razor-sharp mystery…With an unforgettable protagonist and a plot that spirals into ever-deeper layers of intrigue.” —Julie Clark, New York Times bestselling author of The Ghostwriter This twisty and sinister thriller follows a New York art gallery assistant reckoning with her past and now trapped in a web of deceit after an up-and-coming painter is murdered—perfect for fans of Katy Hays and Julia Bartz. November 2001: Chloe Harlow wakes up late, with hazy memories of the party the night before but no recollection of how she got back to her Brooklyn apartment. Ever since the terrifying and catastrophic terrorist attack, it seems she has been on a collision course with destruction. When she finally arrives at the exclusive Upper East Side art gallery where she works, she is immediately called into her boss’s office. A pair of NYPD detectives greet her, also very curious to know how her evening ended…because the host of the party, a rising painter and the gallery’s newest artist, is dead. Navigating both the sophisticated high-stakes art world and her personal life in burgeoning Williamsburg, Chloe struggles to piece together a complete picture of that lost night. As she digs deeper, inconsistencies emerge between what she remembers and what people tell her actually happened, and more questions are raised. Everything begins to feel like a conspiracy and maybe it is. Because Chloe is the only one who glimpses the secrets the murdered artist left behind, and the closer she gets to the truth…the more deadly it becomes. "A haunting, razor-sharp mystery set in the charged aftermath of 9/11, Kate Belli’s THE GALLERY ASSISTANT is as intoxicating as the art world it explores. With an unforgettable protagonist and a plot that spirals into ever-deeper layers of intrigue, Belli crafts a haunting story about memory, truth, and the dangerous secrets hidden beneath the surface. A stunning work that lingers long after the final page." -- Julie Clark, New York Times bestselling author of THE GHOSTWRITER "A haunting, post-9/11 psychological thriller that combines the glittering facade of New York’s art world with the messy, painful aftermath of trauma." ― The Seattle Times "A taut, tightly-plotted thrill ride! Belli expertly dials up the tension as readers race toward a shocking, twisty conclusion. The prose is smart, sharp and compelling; THE GALLERY ASSISTANT is not to be missed." -- Sophie Stava, critically acclaimed author of COUNT MY LIES "A fast-paced thriller set in the New York art world. THE GALLERY ASSISTANT kept me guessing until the end." -- Megan Goldin, bestselling author of DARK CORNERS "Absolutely riveting. The Gallery Assistant kept me on the edge of my seat--and up too late. Kate Belli is a master of pulse-pounding storytelling." -- Kit Frick, critically acclaimed author of FRIENDS AND LIARS "Fans of Paula Hawkins’s The Girl on the Train and A. J. Finn’s The Woman in the Window will find that Belli makes equally brilliant use of her own possibly unreliable narrator . . . Splendidly entertaining . . . Perfectly pairs compelling suspense with an intriguing protagonist." ― Library Journal "A twisty, emotional mystery about grief, greed, and trauma. There are plenty of classic mystery tropes, including red herrings, to keep readers guessing until the end. For fans of Lisa Unger and Lucy Foley." ― Booklist "Engagingly clever." ― Kirkus Reviews "I promise you, the twists will shock you." ― Bookstr (starred review) "A powerful, sophisticated novel of suspense . . . For fans of Katy Hays and Elizabeth Kaufman." ― firstCLUE Kate Belli is the author of The Gallery Assistant and the widely praised Gilded Gotham historical mystery series. She holds a doctorate in art history and has variously worked as an antiques appraiser, a museum curator, and a college professor. Kate is currently a gallery director at a Pennsylvania college. Find out more at KateBelli.com. Chapter One CHAPTER ONE Williamsburg, Brooklyn Mid-November, 2001 How did I get home last night? The thought hit, abrupt and bracing, along with the near-firehose pressure stream of scalding water from the showerhead above. I jumped out of the way, reaching to adjust the temperature, though it didn’t do much good. The pipes were as old as the rest of the building, and finicky; the water was either near boiling or icy cold. I managed to find a tolerable warmth and quickly scrubbed myself, trying to avoid the messy mound of hair piled on the top of my head. I was already so late for work, there was no time to wash and dry it, and it was too cold out to let it air-dry. The foul scent of cigarette smoke mixed with the steam from the shower, intensifying it. Funny how I loved the taste of cigarettes so much, but the later smell on my clothes and in my hair was disgusting. How did I get home? I paused, taking an extra moment I didn’t have to let the water blast my shoulders, and gingerly pressed my