Chapter 2: The Painting Worth Forty Million Dollars
Grant finally understood that denying the assault was impossible.
So he changed tactics.
"Fine," he said. "We argued."
He spread his hands dramatically.
"But she's trying to destroy my reputation because she lost the bidding."
Several nervous guests nodded.
A convenient explanation.
Until my father spoke again.
"Show them Exhibit Twelve."
Another screen illuminated.
It wasn't footage of me.
It was footage from an hour before the assault.
Grant stood inside a restricted restoration room with two museum appraisers.
He believed the cameras there had no microphones.
He was wrong.
His voice filled the gallery.
"Switch the original."
One of the appraisers hesitated.
"If someone notices—"
"They won't."
Grant smiled confidently.
"The counterfeit is perfect."
A collective gasp swept through the room.
The forty-million-dollar Renaissance painting scheduled to headline the auction had already been replaced.
The buyers hadn't merely witnessed an assault.
They had nearly purchased stolen cultural property.
My father folded his arms.
"The assault was never his biggest mistake."
Federal investigators entered through the secured east corridor.
Someone near the back whispered, "They're already here..."
"They've been here all evening," I replied.
Months earlier, anonymous evidence had been delivered to federal authorities documenting an international art-smuggling network.
Tonight's auction had been organized specifically to expose everyone involved.
Grant had unknowingly walked into a trap that had taken nearly a year to build.
His knees visibly weakened.
"You planned this..."
"No," I corrected.
May you like
"We planned for criminals."
"You simply chose to become one."
