Chapter 2
Marcia rose slowly.
Her face was no longer frightened.
It was furious.
Not at Anthony.
At Victor.
“You told me the family wanted Laurel removed from formal decisions.”
Victor straightened his suit.
“They do.”
“You said nothing about Anthony.”
Victor looked at her.
“You would never have agreed.”
Her hand tightened around her pearl necklace.
“So you used me.”
Victor smiled faintly.
“No.”
His breathing had steadied.
“I gave you the room you said you wanted.”
Marcia took one step toward him.
Anthony raised a hand.
She stopped.
That small gesture reminded everyone whose room it actually was.
Anthony looked toward the three relatives.
“You were paid to raise your hands.”
Peter nodded.
Another relative, Celia, spoke carefully.
“Victor said the first vote had to look natural.”
Laurel’s eyes narrowed.
“First vote?”
Celia looked toward Marcia.
“To remove you from all family business events.”
Laurel’s face remained composed.
Only her fingers betrayed her.
They pressed slowly into Mia’s shoulder.
Anthony saw.
Celia continued.
“Then Marcia would demand a leadership review.”
Marcia’s jaw dropped.
“I would what?”
Victor laughed softly.
Marcia turned.
His eyes were colder now.
“You've been complaining about Anthony for two years.”
“That does not mean I planned to remove him.”
“You said he was weakening us.”
“I said his policies were weak.”
Anthony listened.
No interruption.
The difference mattered.
Marcia had opposed him.
Victor had converted opposition into conspiracy.
Then the gallery director hurried into the room.
Her face had gone pale.
“Mr. Vescari.”
Anthony looked at her.
“There’s a problem with Lot One.”
The centerpiece of the auction.
A seventy-year-old blue-dial mechanical chronometer commissioned by Anthony’s grandfather.
One of the oldest pieces associated with the Vescari family.
Anthony’s eyes narrowed.
“What problem?”
The director’s breathing shortened.
“We opened the display after the fight to verify nothing was damaged.”
“And?”
She swallowed.
“The watch inside is not the original.”
Nobody spoke.
Victor’s eyes moved toward Marcia.
Marcia saw it.
Anthony saw both.
The director carefully placed the watch on a velvet pad.
Laurel moved closer.
Her eyes immediately focused on the crown.
Then the dial.
Then the case edge.
Anthony noticed.
“You see something.”
Laurel hesitated.
Marcia gave a contemptuous laugh.
“Now the beggar is a horologist too?”
Laurel looked at her.
The humiliation was still fresh.
But something in her face changed.
Confidence.
“My father repaired watches for thirty-three years.”
Marcia’s smile faded.
Laurel leaned toward the watch.
“When I was a child, I sorted parts for him after school.”
Anthony looked at his wife.
She had told him stories about the tiny repair shop in Queens.
He had never understood how much she knew.
Laurel pointed toward the lower lug.
“The original has a hand-filed imperfection right here.”
The director checked the archive photograph.
It was there.
The watch on the table did not have it.
Laurel looked up.
“This is a replica.”
Anthony turned toward the inventory manager.
“When was the original last moved?”
Records were checked.
One authorization appeared.
Forty-eight hours earlier.
Signed by the senior family representative overseeing tonight’s auction.
Marcia Vescari.
May you like
Every eye turned toward her.
For the first time all evening, Marcia had no insult ready.
