After my mother’s funeral, I inherited her favorite but old painting, while my sister got her three vacation homes…

Except what he heard. From the recorder’s speaker came not his voice. And not Olivia’s or Alex’s voice.

Came a dry, slightly creaky but absolutely confident voice of Samuel Peters. Yes, I understand the seriousness of the situation. I repeat again.

Alex Kramer and Olivia Patton. They contacted representatives of the Sheffield family with a proposal. They offered to provide knowingly false information discrediting their relative Elena Harper in order to discredit her.

In exchange, they demanded monetary reward in the amount of 30% of the appraised value of Vincent Sinclair’s painting Last Dawn. Olivia made some strange gurgling sound. Alex paled so that his face became paper-colored.

They looked at Samuel who sat next to Elena, straight and imperturbable as a monument. They didn’t understand what was happening. And the voice from the recorder continued.

This is a classic scheme. Conspiracy for fraud on a particularly large scale. Plus blackmail.

They’re trying to blackmail both Harper and the Sheffield family, putting them in a vulnerable position. Then another voice sounded in the recording. Calm, with a slight foreign accent.

Mr. Peters, I understand you. We accept your statement. I, as the official representative of the International Association for Combating Crimes in the Art Sphere, confirm that on the fact of the attempt at fraud by citizens Kramer and Patton, we will start an investigation.

We have already opened a case on them. We will contact local law enforcement agencies. Thank you for your timely appeal and civic position. The recording ended.

The last words of the foreign investigator hung in the deafening silence. Elena calmly reached out and turned off the recorder. Roman Sheffield’s face turned into a stone mask.

His eyes, narrowed to slits, were fixed on Samuel. He understood everything. He understood that he had been led by the nose from the beginning.

He thought he was the player manipulating all the pieces on the board. But it turned out he himself was just a piece in someone else’s much more complex game. He thought Elena came to him as a supplicant, as a victim.

That the old art historian Peters was just moral support, a sentimental witness from the past. He couldn’t imagine that this quiet old man was her shield, her weapon. That at the very moment when he, Roman, was negotiating with Alex and Olivia, Samuel was already fixing their crimes at a completely different level.

Not at the level of family showdowns but at the level of international law. Elena didn’t collect compromising material on them. She didn’t play their dirty games.

She simply reported the impending crime to the instance that people like Roman respected and feared much more than local police. Victor Nicholas Sheffield, the head of the family, slowly shifted his gaze from his lawyer’s frozen face to Samuel. There was no more arrogance in his eyes.

There was respect. Samuel Peters, he said, and his voice sounded completely different. We seem to have met at a conference in Zurich about ten years ago.

I remember your report. You were always a man of impeccable reputation. Samuel just nodded modestly.

I just do what I must, Victor Nicholas. My late friend’s honor and her daughter’s safety are more important to me than anything. And then all gazes turned to Olivia and Alex.

They stood in the middle of the room like two wax figures. Their world, built on intrigues, collapsed. They were caught.

Not just in a lie. But in a criminal offense, recorded and documented. They themselves came to the trap to testify against Elena.

And in the end, they became the main accused in a case they didn’t even suspect. Alex came to his senses first. He took a step toward Roman, his face distorted in a pathetic, pleading grimace.

This—this is a misunderstanding! he babbled. We didn’t mean that. She set it all up.

She provoked us. Yes, Olivia picked up, her voice breaking into a squeal.

It’s her. She’s crazy. She manipulates everyone.

We just wanted to help. But no one listened to them. Roman Sheffield looked at them with cold, icy contempt.

He understood that these two weren’t just petty fraudsters. They were a toxic asset. A source of problems he absolutely didn’t need.

Associating with them meant getting into an international scandal with investigation and police. Out, he said quietly, but the word sounded like a whip crack. Alex and Olivia froze.

What? Out of here, Roman repeated, no longer hiding his disgust. Both of you, if I see you or hear your names in connection with this matter again, I’ll personally ensure that the dossier we just heard about is implemented with maximum speed and severity.

Do you understand me? They understood.

They were thrown out. Tossed out of the game like unnecessary trash. Humiliated, crushed, they backed out the door.

Their great scam ended in complete, crushing failure. When the door closed behind them, silence reigned in the room again. Victor Nicholas looked at Elena.

I apologize for this unpleasant scene, he said. And for my lawyer’s methods. It seems we all underestimated you, Elena Harper.

Elena nodded silently. She felt no joy of victory. She felt only bitter emptiness.

But she knew she did what she had to. She protected her mother’s honor.

When the door closed behind Alex and Olivia, the tension in the room eased. Victor Nicholas gestured for Elena and Samuel to sit again. Roman stood by the window, his back to them, clearly experiencing his tactical defeat.

Elena Harper, the head of the family began, and his tone was no longer just polite but deeply respectful. I read your mother’s diary. I’m shocked.

The act of your grandfather and then your mother is… In our time, such people are no more. Your family for almost a hundred years kept not just a painting. You kept our family’s honor.

I have no words to express my gratitude. He paused. We will, of course, pay you a reward.

A very generous reward. We understand what debts remained after your mother, and we’ll cover them with plenty. The painting will return home, and you’ll get what you rightfully deserve for decades of storage and risk.

This was the very proposal Elena feared and perhaps somewhere deep down waited for. Money. Solution to all problems.

But after reading her mother’s diary, after everything that happened, simply taking money seemed wrong. It would be a betrayal of Mom’s memory.

Her feat was not for money. Elena Harper, Victor Nicholas said, and his tone was already not simply polite but deeply respectful. I read your mother’s diary. I’m shocked.

The act of your grandfather and then your mother is… In our time, such people are no more. Your family for almost a hundred years kept not just a painting. You kept our family’s honor.

I have no words to express my gratitude. He paused. We will, of course, pay you a reward.

A very generous reward. We understand what debts remained after your mother, and we’ll cover them with plenty. The painting will return home, and you’ll get what you rightfully deserve for decades of storage and risk.

This was the very proposal Elena feared and perhaps somewhere deep down waited for. Money. Solution to all problems.

But after reading her mother’s diary, after everything that happened, simply taking money seemed wrong. It would be a betrayal of Mom’s memory.

Her feat was not for money. Victor Nicholas, Elena said, and her voice, to her own surprise, sounded firm. I can’t just take money and give you the painting.

Roman by the window turned sharply. Victor Nicholas raised his eyebrows in surprise. What do you mean? My mother lived all her life in the shadow of this secret.

She sacrificed everything to fulfill her duty. Alex and Olivia tried to portray her as a thief and me as crazy. They covered her name and mine with mud.

I can’t allow this story to end with a quiet deal in a closed room. She looked straight into the head of the family’s eyes. I want everyone to know the truth.

Not about money. But about honor. About my mother.

I want the painting returned to you. But returned publicly. Roman stepped to the table.

What do you propose? A press conference? This will create unnecessary noise. Exactly, Samuel intervened, who had been silent until then. Exactly noise is needed.

Noise that will clear the name of Mary Harper. And her daughter’s name. Elena outlined her plan.

She didn’t want a quiet handover. She wanted to arrange a one-day exhibition in the main New York museum. Organize a big event, invite the press, art historians, all the city elite.

And at this event, in front of everyone, tell the story of the painting. The story of the Sheffield family and the story of the Harper family. And there publicly hand over the masterpiece to the rightful owners.

Victor Nicholas listened to her, and his face slowly lit up with understanding. He was a man of old school. And the word honor wasn’t an empty sound for him.

He understood what this young woman wanted. She didn’t want money. She wanted justice.

Restoration of the good name. This, he said slowly, is a very worthy proposal, Elena Harper. Very.

We agree. The next two weeks flew by like one day. The Sheffield fund machine worked at full power.

The director of the main museum, learning what painting it was about and receiving a call from Sheffield himself, gladly provided the best hall. The museum restorers, under Samuel’s guidance and with Elena’s participation, began the most complex jewelry work to remove the upper layer of paint. Elena worked around the clock, putting her whole soul into it.

With each removed millimeter of the dull landscape, bright, pure, genius colors of Sinclair emerged from beneath. Last Dawn was returning to life. A powerful PR campaign was launched.

All city media buzzed about the upcoming event. Return of a lost masterpiece, sensational find in our city. Vincent Sinclair’s name was on everyone’s lips.

And the day before the event, Alex and Olivia received official letters by mail. These weren’t invitations. These were legal notifications drafted by Roman Sheffield.

They were strongly requested to attend the event. The tone of the letter left no doubt—they weren’t invited but summoned. Attendance was mandatory.

Roman was letting them know that the fraud case wasn’t closed but only suspended, and their fate depended on their behavior. They didn’t know what to think. Why were they called there? To publicly humiliate? Or maybe the Sheffields decided to give them some meager percentage to keep quiet? They clung to this hope like drowning men to a straw.

They decided Elena, having received her reward, would simply disappear, and they’d get hush money, and that would be the end. They had to go. On the day of the exhibition, the museum was packed.

All of New York’s elite gathered here—officials, businessmen, cultural figures, journalists with cameras. In the center of the hall, on a special stand under a velvet cover, stood it. The painting.

Elena stood backstage of a small stage set up in the hall. She looked at the crowd. There was no fear on her face.

She saw Alex and Olivia enter the hall. They looked lost and pathetic. They huddled against the wall in the farthest corner, trying to be inconspicuous, and looked at what was happening with envy and malice.

They saw the luxury, success, attention—all that they craved so much and that was now irretrievably lost. They looked at the stage, waiting for Victor Nicholas to come out to hand Elena a check and send her away. The event began.

The museum director came on stage, said a few words about the significance of the event. Then Victor Nicholas Sheffield took the word. He briefly told his family’s story and thanked everyone who helped in the search…