Page 38 of His Untouchable Heart

And for the first time all day, I believed we might actually be okay.

We were just starting to gather our things when Juliette held up a hand.

“One more thing,” she said, her voice tight. “Louisa’s in. She’ll help—but there’s a condition.”

I froze mid-reach for my bag. “What kind of condition?”

“She wants proof,” Juliette said. “Real, technical, indisputable proof that the piece is authentic before she even thinks about going further.”

A twist of dread curled low in my stomach.

“Can’t say I blame her,” she went on. “After everything with the Devereux family? The lies, the cover-ups, the mess that name left behind? She doesn’t trust Frank Curtain just because he is Alistair Devereux’s attorney. I didn’t tell her he was blackmailing you. I feared it would scare her too much, and she would tell me she didn’t want to get involved.”

I sank back into my chair—heart suddenly too loud in my ears. Louisa had always been guarded, but this level of scrutiny—this demand—was unusual.

“She’ll get her proof,” I said quietly. “The Burker Tracer is already set up at the gallery.”

Anthony nodded beside me. “It’ll give us a full breakdown—chemical signature of the paint, aging analysis of the canvas. If the piece is real, we’ll know.”

“And if it’s not?” Juliette asked.

He didn’t answer right away. He didn’t have to.

I stared down at the condensation dripping from my coffee cup, fingers tightening around the plastic like it could somehow anchor me.

If the painting wasn’t real…

I didn’t finish the thought. Didn’t want to. But it hovered there, quiet and heavy, a question I wasn’t ready to face. Louisa’s cooperation, the work we’d barely begun, the fragile sense of momentum—all of it suddenly felt like it was balancing on a single canvas.

There was a fine line between preservation and exposure. The Burker Tracer didn’t lie. But sometimes, knowing the truth came with a cost you couldn’t predict.

I looked up and caught Anthony’s gaze. He had a glint of something in his eyes. “This is about to get interesting.”

Juliette didn’t add anything. She stood with a sharp scrape of her chair and tossed her empty coffee cup into the bin like she was done playing nice with the universe.

“Guess we’d better go pack.”

As we stepped away from the café, Anthony’s phone buzzed again. He glanced at the screen and veered ahead, lifting it to his ear with a muttered, “Give me a minute.” His voice faded into the noise of a passing car as he moved a few paces ahead—definitely talking to Damian again.

I let the quiet between Juliette and me linger for a beat before leaning in. “He doesn’t know,” I murmured. “About our connection toA Lady and Gentleman in Black—or that we’re trying to prove it belonged to our family.”

Juliette blinked. “Seriously?”

I nodded. “Since there is no evidence there are living heirs to the Van Den Berg family, it was easy to bury the provenance. But I haven’t told him that we are the heirs the MM&W Foundation is searching for. Not yet. Not without proof.”

She absorbed that, lips pressing together like she wanted to say more but thought better of it.

“Oh—and Lina, from Switzerland, called,” I added quickly. “She left a message. Said she had some interesting information for us, but I haven’t had a chance to call her back.”

Juliette’s face lit up. “You want me to?”

“Please.”

“I’m on it.”

Her excitement softened the knot in my chest. It reminded me why we were doing this at all.

Anthony returned a moment later, slipping his phone into his pocket with a flash of a smile. “All set. Damian said the harbor master was waiting for us with the keys. Oh—and he wants to meet Juliette if she looks anything like her twin.”

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