Chapter 3
Marcia did not deny signing the movement authorization.
She denied stealing anything.
Her breathing came deeper now.
Controlled with effort.
“Victor told me the original needed to be moved before the auction.”
Anthony’s eyes shifted toward his cousin.
Victor’s expression barely changed.
“Security protocol.”
The gallery director shook her head.
“No relocation was scheduled.”
Victor looked at her.
“You aren't included in every security decision.”
The director immediately fell silent.
Anthony saw that too.
Fear had traveled farther through the organization than he realized.
He looked back at Marcia.
“Where did you move it?”
“To Vault Three.”
Anthony turned toward the director.
“Open it.”
The vault sat behind the private catalog room.
Three locks.
Two electronic authorizations.
One mechanical key.
Marcia supplied hers.
Anthony supplied the second.
The steel door opened.
The case labeled LOT ONE sat inside.
Empty.
Marcia’s hand dropped to her side.
Victor inhaled quietly through his nose.
Laurel saw him.
“Something funny?”
Victor’s eyes moved toward her.
“You think because you found one replica you're suddenly the smartest person here?”
Laurel’s gaze stayed on him.
Her voice was steady.
“No.”
A pause.
“I think you're talking because silence scares you.”
Victor’s jaw tightened.
Anthony looked at his wife.
So did Marcia.
Laurel had been publicly forced to her knees less than an hour earlier.
Now Victor was the one losing control of his breathing.
The inventory audit began immediately.
Anthony ordered every high-value lot removed from the floor.
No one left.
No private phone calls.
Outside counsel was contacted.
Victor laughed.
“You're seriously bringing auditors into a family gallery?”
Anthony looked at him.
“Yes.”
Victor’s eyes hardened.
“You've changed.”
Anthony's voice remained low.
“So people keep telling me.”
The first result came within forty minutes.
Lot One was not the only problem.
Seven watches showed serial inconsistencies.
Four had cases with microscopic tooling marks inconsistent with their archival photographs.
Two contained movement components manufactured years after the documented restoration dates.
One watch had been swapped so carefully that only its interior bridge revealed the difference.
Laurel stared at the report.
Marcia sat silently.
Her earlier arrogance had vanished.
Anthony looked at Victor.
“How long?”
Victor smiled.
“You’re assuming I know.”
Anthony said nothing.
The silence stretched.
Victor's smile became thinner.
Then the gallery conservator entered carrying a stack of movement forms.
“There’s something worse.”
Anthony turned.
Every questionable watch had been approved for display through a private authentication override.
The initials at the bottom were the same.
L.V.
Laurel Vescari.
Laurel stared at the page.
“I never signed these.”
Marcia slowly looked at her.
Victor leaned back.
May you like
And smiled again.
For the first time that night, the evidence pointed directly at Anthony’s wife.
