Chapter 9

416words2026-01-19 04:15

"This is one of five similar works recently acquired by the foundation," he said, watching my reaction closely. "My cousin Alexander purchased them through a dealer named Claude Rousseau."

At Alexander's name, my fingers tightened around my cup. Felix noticed—of course he noticed—his eyes flicking to my whitened knuckles.

"You recognize the name," he said.

I forced my grip to relax. "The Blackwood family is well-known in certain circles."

"I have concerns about these paintings' authenticity," he continued, his voice dropping lower. "But I need concrete evidence before confronting the seller."

I studied the photograph, using the moment to compose myself. "And you think I can provide this evidence?"

"Your methods are innovative. Non-invasive but conclusive, according to your research." His eyes searched mine. "I need someone who can scientifically prove whether these paintings are authentic or forgeries. Someone outside the family, with no stake in the outcome."

"And if I find they're forgeries?" I asked, leaning forward.

"Then I'll have grounds to pursue legal action against Rousseau and his associate." His eyes darkened. "And prevent my cousin from making similar mistakes in the future."

I gathered my portfolio, buying time to think. This was happening faster than I'd anticipated—direct access to evidence that could implicate both Alexander and Vivienne in art fraud.

"When would you need me to start?" I asked, careful to sound professionally interested rather than eager.

"Immediately," Felix said, checking his watch. "I can show you the collection this afternoon, if you're available."

I hesitated, making a show of consulting my calendar. "I have a class at three, but I'm free until then."

"Perfect." He stood, towering over me. "My car is outside."

As I followed Felix out of the café, my mind raced with possibilities. He was offering me exactly what I needed—access to evidence against Alexander and Vivienne—without me having to manipulate or scheme for it.

It was almost too perfect. Which made me wonder: what wasn't Felix telling me?

In the sleek black car waiting at the curb, I watched his profile as he gave instructions to the driver. The man who had tried to save me in another life was now unwittingly helping me destroy his cousin.

The irony wasn't lost on me. Neither was the pang of guilt that accompanied it.

But I pushed the guilt aside. Alexander and Vivienne had taken everything from me—my love, my baby, my life. They deserved whatever was coming.

And Felix Blackwood had just handed me the key to their destruction.