Chapter 4
Laurel did not panic.
That surprised Victor.
She took the authentication sheets and read them carefully.
Her breathing was shallow, but her hands remained steady.
“These aren't my signatures.”
Victor laughed.
“They’re your initials.”
“Initials aren't signatures.”
“You approved charity consignments all year.”
“Not authentication.”
Marcia’s eyes narrowed.
“You had access.”
Laurel looked toward her.
“And so did half the senior family.”
Marcia stood.
“There.”
Her confidence returned.
“You wanted everyone to believe this was about humiliating some poor little outsider.”
Anthony’s eyes moved toward her.
Marcia continued anyway.
“Maybe the outsider was stealing from us.”
Mia pressed herself against Laurel.
Anthony saw his daughter react before Laurel did.
That ended Marcia’s momentum.
Anthony stepped between them.
“No accusations in front of Mia.”
Marcia scoffed.
“You let her hear worse five minutes ago.”
His eyes hardened.
Marcia stopped.
The digital authentication history arrived.
Each approval using Laurel’s initials had come through an executive access terminal.
The same terminal.
Anthony’s private office inside the gallery.
Victor’s smile disappeared slightly.
Anthony noticed.
“Who can enter my office?”
The security chief answered.
“You. Mrs. Vescari. Mr. Victor Vescari. Ms. Marcia Vescari during official events.”
Four people.
Four possibilities.
Then came the access times.
Three approvals were logged while Laurel had been at home with Mia.
Two while she was attending a charity luncheon.
One during a family trip to Miami.
That cleared her presence.
But another record complicated everything.
Six months earlier, at 1:14 a.m., Laurel’s gallery access card opened Anthony’s private office.
She went still.
Victor saw it.
“There we are.”
Anthony looked at his wife.
Laurel did not meet his eyes.
“Laurel.”
She closed them for one second.
Then opened them.
“I was here.”
Anthony’s hand slowly flattened against the table.
“Why?”
Her fingers tightened around her wedding ring.
“I was checking something.”
“What?”
She looked toward Victor.
He stopped smiling.
That told Anthony enough to wait.
Laurel finally answered.
“I had already found the first fake watch.”
Marcia turned sharply.
Anthony stared at his wife.
“How long ago?”
“Seven months.”
The room changed.
“You knew seven months ago.”
“Yes.”
Anthony’s voice remained calm.
That made Laurel’s eyes fill.
“And you didn't tell me.”
“No.”
“Why?”
Her breathing broke once.
“Because I told someone else first.”
Anthony looked slowly toward Victor.
Victor’s jaw tightened.
May you like
Laurel whispered:
“I trusted him.”
