Page 60 of His Untouchable Heart

We stood in silence for a beat too long, so I cleared my throat and eased into the next part. “Well, then, I’m not so sure you’ll like this news. The foundation received certified documentation out of Switzerland. The provenance has been confirmed. Ownership is no longer in question.”

I didn’t say how we got it; we just had it.

Valencia raised an eyebrow, then gave a slight, knowing smirk. “My wife told me she hated that painting,” he said, stepping back toward the door. “She said it looked like people dressed for a funeral, and it might bring us bad luck.” He grinned. “No problem. You’ve got my support.”

And just like that, the final obstacle vanished with the click of the door behind him.

I found Gabrielle near the windows at the front of the gallery, her arms crossed loosely over her chest, gaze fixed on the city below. The late afternoon light caught the edges of her hair where it touched her shoulders. She didn’t look up when I stepped into the room, but something in her posture shifted like she already knew it was me.

“It’s done,” I said, my voice quieter than I meant.

She turned then, soft, tired, and beautiful in the way she was when she wasn’t trying to be. “Really?”

I nodded. “He’s not going to interfere. You’re in the clear.”

She let out a breath that seemed to deflate everything inside her. Relief and disbelief—all exhaled at once. Then she crossed the space between us and leaned into me, her head resting gently against my chest. I wrapped my arms around her, anchoring us both.

We stood there for a long time, just letting it all settle—the weight of the day, the finality of it. The truth was that no one was coming to take this victory away.

Eventually, we drifted back through the gallery, past the office, past the long hallway that led to the vault. We paused in front ofThe Lady and Gentleman in Blackone last time.

Gabrielle studied the painting for a beat, her arms hanging loosely at her sides. “It still makes me sad,” she said quietly. “I want to sell it to someone who will love it.”

I stepped beside her. “Let me take care of that for you.”

She didn’t argue. She didn’t have to. “I’d appreciate that very much, and I know Juliette would too.”

I reached for her hand, and she slipped hers into mine, her fingers curling softly around mine like they’d always belonged there.

We didn’t say anything more. We didn’t need to.

CHAPTERTWENTY-TWO

Gabrielle

The waiting room smelled faintly of disinfectant. A framed print of sunflowers hung crookedly above the receptionist’s desk, cheerful in a way that felt vaguely ironic given the sea of nervous couples around me. I crossed and uncrossed my legs, smoothing my skirt despite no wrinkles. My hands wouldn’t stop fidgeting.

I tried to steady my breathing, but it was harder than I expected, maybe because this was real now.

I was about to see our baby.

Anthony sat beside me, calm and collected as always, one ankle resting casually over his knee. He wore a button-down shirt and navy slacks—classic Anthony Moreau—but his free hand reached for mine, and he squeezed gently. “Whatever happens, I love you and our baby.”

I looked at him, caught by the quiet certainty in his voice. So much had changed between us in just a few months. He wasn’t the distant, closed-off man I’d met when he arrived at the gallery the first time. Not anymore.

I nodded and placed my hand on my belly. “We love you too.”

When the nurse finally called our names, I stood too quickly and nearly knocked over my purse. Anthony caught it before it could hit the floor, then placed his palm lightly against the small of my back as we walked to the exam room.

The lights were low inside, soft, and comforting. A machine beeped faintly in the corner. The technician smiled warmly and asked me to lie back on the exam table. I felt the cold gel on my stomach and sucked in a breath, but then?—

There it was. The screen lit up with shifting shadows and curves I couldn’t make sense of until the tech pointed. “There’s your baby,” she said gently, angling the monitor toward us. “Everything’s looking good so far—nice strong heartbeat.”

Then she glanced at us, her hand still moving the wand gently over my stomach. “Do you want to know the gender?”

I glanced at Anthony, who was already looking at me. His eyes searched mine for half a second before he nodded once, barely perceptible. I smiled.

“Yes,” I said. “We want to know.”

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