Chapter 2 - THE MAN WHO BOUGHT EMILY’S PORTRAIT
Matthew called the auction house from the foyer.
He didn’t sit down.
He didn’t let go of Hannah’s hand.
George stood nearby with the printed invoice, while Patricia remained ten feet away, suddenly far less interested in explaining herself.
The auction director answered personally.
“Mr. Sterling.”
“I want Emily Sterling’s portrait returned.”
A pause.
“I’m afraid the transaction closed this morning.”
“I don’t care.”
“The buyer has already paid.”
“Then refund him.”
Another pause.
“Mr. Sterling, the buyer specifically waived the standard inspection period.”
Matthew’s jaw tightened.
“Who bought it?”
“I’m not sure I’m permitted—”
“That painting was removed from my home without my authorization.”
The man went quiet.
Matthew continued.
“If you want my attorneys inside your business records before dinner, keep protecting the buyer’s name.”
“I’ll need a moment.”
Thirty seconds later, the auction director returned.
“The purchaser is Jonathan Hale.”
Matthew stopped breathing.
Hannah looked up.
“Uncle Jonathan?”
Patricia’s face went white.
That told Matthew something immediately.
Emily’s older brother had not been inside the Sterling estate in almost four years.
Once, Jonathan had been one of Matthew’s closest friends.
After Emily died, something changed.
Jonathan accused Matthew of letting Patricia turn Emily’s memorial foundation into a spectacle.
Matthew accused Jonathan of interfering in how he raised Hannah.
There were emails.
Angry messages.
A final exchange in which Jonathan supposedly wrote:
Maybe Hannah would be better off remembering Emily somewhere your family can’t sanitize her.
Matthew had never forgiven him.
Now Jonathan had paid $180,000 for Emily’s portrait.
“Give me his number.”
The auction director hesitated.
“You already have it,” Patricia said suddenly.
Matthew turned.
His sister’s mistake was immediate.
“How do you know?”
Patricia froze.
“I assume you do. He’s family.”
“No.”
Matthew stared at her.
“How did you know Jonathan bought it?”
“I didn’t.”
“You just reacted before I said anything.”
“I heard the name.”
“You’re lying.”
Patricia crossed her arms.
“This is turning theatrical.”
Hannah moved closer to Matthew.
He felt it.
He lowered his voice.
“George, take Hannah to Grandma.”
“No.”
Hannah grabbed his hand harder.
Matthew looked down.
“I want to stay.”
“This is adult business.”
“It’s Mom’s picture.”
There it was.
He almost told her no anyway.
Then he remembered what his daughter had apparently been hearing for months while adults decided what she was allowed to keep.
“Okay.”
Patricia scoffed.
“You’re involving a child in a financial dispute?”
Matthew looked at her.
“You involved her when you put her mother’s belongings on a bed and told her to choose one.”
Patricia said nothing.
Matthew searched Jonathan’s number.
It was still there.
He called.
Jonathan answered on the fourth ring.
“Matthew?”
His voice was older than Matthew remembered.
“Did you buy Emily’s portrait?”
Silence.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Another silence.
Then:
“Because your sister told me it was leaving the country.”
Matthew slowly turned toward Patricia.
She looked away.
“When?”
“Two weeks ago.”
“You spoke to Patricia?”
“She called me.”
“What did she say?”
“That you were clearing Emily’s things out before the memorial.”
Matthew’s chest tightened.
“She said I approved the sale?”
“Yes.”
“I didn’t.”
Jonathan exhaled.
“I figured that out this morning.”
“How?”
“She sent me the private catalog before the auction.”
Matthew looked at George.
“Private catalog?”
George frowned.
“I’ve never seen one.”
Jonathan continued.
“The portrait wasn’t the only item.”
Matthew felt cold.
“What else?”
“Emily’s piano. Her desk. Jewelry. Paintings. Some personal papers.”
Hannah made a tiny sound.
Matthew squeezed her hand.
“Why did you pay one hundred eighty thousand dollars for the portrait?”
Jonathan went silent again.
Then:
“Because it belongs to Hannah.”
Patricia rolled her eyes.
Matthew saw it.
“What do you mean?”
“Have you read Emily’s will recently?”
Matthew stared at the floor.
“No.”
“Then read it.”
Matthew’s heart sank.
Jonathan continued.
“Emily left her personal effects to Hannah.”
“I know.”
“No, you apparently don’t.”
Jonathan’s voice sharpened.
“She didn’t leave them to you to dispose of. She didn’t leave them to Patricia. She left them to her daughter, with you as custodian until Hannah turns eighteen.”
Matthew looked at Patricia.
Her face had changed.
“You knew that?”
Patricia said nothing.
Jonathan continued through the phone.
“I called the auction house yesterday and told them ownership was disputed.”
“They sold it anyway?”
“They said they had a signed authorization from you.”
Matthew’s eyes hardened.
“I signed nothing.”
“That’s what I thought.”
Hannah whispered:
“Dad?”
He looked down.
“What?”
“If Mom left it to me, did Aunt Patricia sell my stuff?”
The simplicity of the question made the room feel colder.
Matthew crouched.
“We’re finding out.”
Patricia snapped:
“She is eight years old. She does not own a seven-hundred-thousand-dollar collection.”
Jonathan heard her.
“That sounds like Patricia.”
She stared at the phone.
“Stay out of this.”
Jonathan laughed without humor.
“You invited me into it when you offered me my dead sister’s portrait.”
Matthew’s head turned.
“You offered it directly to him?”
Patricia’s jaw tightened.
Jonathan answered for her.
“She wanted one hundred twenty-five thousand privately.”
“Why did you bid instead?”
“Because I wanted a clean record of the purchase.”
Matthew frowned.
“Why?”
Jonathan paused.
“Because I stopped trusting her.”
Silence.
“How long?”
“Three years.”
Matthew stood.
“Three years?”
“Yes.”
“And you never told me?”
“I tried.”
Matthew’s anger rose.
“No. You sent me one vicious email after another.”
Jonathan went quiet.
Then:
“What emails?”
Matthew froze.
The foyer seemed to shrink.
“You know exactly which emails.”
“No, I don’t.”
“The ones telling me I was turning Emily’s memory into a corporate brand. The one saying Hannah should spend less time with my family.”
Jonathan’s voice changed.
“Matthew, I never wrote that.”
Patricia moved toward the dining room.
Matthew stepped in front of her.
“Don’t.”
She stopped.
Jonathan continued.
“I emailed you twice after the funeral. You answered once.”
“I answered more than once.”
“No.”
Matthew’s pulse accelerated.
“Did Patricia have access to Emily’s memorial accounts?”
Jonathan asked quietly.
“Yes.”
“Your household family email?”
“Yes.”
“Your assistant while you were traveling?”
“Sometimes.”
Jonathan exhaled.
“Then we have a much bigger problem.”
Matthew closed his eyes.
Hannah looked between the adults.
“What problem?”
No one answered.
She tugged Matthew’s sleeve.
“Dad.”
He looked down.
“Did Aunt Patricia make you and Uncle Jonathan stop talking?”
Matthew’s throat tightened.
“I don’t know yet.”
Hannah looked at Patricia.
Then said something no one expected.
“She does that.”
Matthew stared at his daughter.
“What?”
Hannah swallowed.
“She tells people what other people said.”
Patricia snapped:
“Hannah.”
The girl flinched.
Matthew moved in front of her.
“What did she tell you?”
Hannah looked terrified.
“She said Grandma thinks I talk about Mom too much.”
Matthew’s mother had never said that.
“What else?”
“That Uncle Jonathan doesn’t visit because I make him sad.”
Jonathan made a broken sound through the phone.
“Hannah…”
The child stared at the device.
“Hi.”
Jonathan’s voice softened instantly.
“Hi, peanut.”
Hannah’s eyes filled.
He had called her that since she was two.
“You’re not mad at me?”
“No.”
“Not even a little?”
“Not even one molecule.”
Hannah started crying.
Matthew looked at Patricia.
For the first time, his sister seemed to understand how much had just collapsed.
Matthew returned to the call.
“Where is the portrait?”
“At my house.”
“I’m coming.”
“Bring Hannah.”
Matthew glanced down.
Jonathan continued.
“There’s something behind the frame you need to see.”
Patricia’s head snapped up.
Matthew caught it.
“What?”
Jonathan’s voice went quiet.
“When the portrait arrived, the backing had already been cut open.”
Matthew stared at Patricia.
“Was something inside?”
“I don’t know.”
“But whoever removed it did.”
Hannah squeezed Matthew’s fingers.
“What was supposed to be there?”
Jonathan hesitated.
Then said:
“Emily’s inventory.”
Matthew frowned.
“What inventory?”
“The list of everything she left Hannah.”
The foyer went silent.
Jonathan continued.
“She gave me a copy before she died.”
Matthew looked at the auction list in George’s hand.
The piano.
The desk.
Jewelry.
Paintings.
Letters.
This was no longer someone cleaning out a dead woman’s room.
Patricia had known exactly what belonged to Hannah.
May you like
And she had been selling it anyway.
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