Page 131 of The Prize
Jade’s long arm lifted the kettle and tipped boiling hot water into a mug and filled it to the brim.
“She couldn’t do it, either,” I muttered.
“That’s sweet of you, Jade,” Tobias said. “She’s making you tea. Wow, that’s a new one. Usually she needs an order for something like this. Next time leave enough room for milk, Jade.”
“Okay, good.” I sat on the bar stool and Tobias sat beside me.
I threw him a reassured smile and he threw one back.
“I know it has to happen,” I whispered. “It’s just that I’m not ready. I mean, you created her and that means something.” I gazed down at the canvas. “She’s the first painting by an AI and this is a landmark event. Perhaps that alone should be taken into consideration. Maybe what I’ve viewed as an abomination all this time should be seen as a technical achievement.”
Jade lifted the mug with one of her metal arms and carried it toward us. She’d failed to add milk this time but I didn’t mind, not really. She floated above the granite counter and hovered a few feet above the painting—and tipped boiling hot tea overMona Lisa’s canvas, merging and melting the colors, and we flew backward to avoid the splash.
“What the fuck!” yelled Tobias.
Jade paused midtip, seemingly assessing his reaction.
My chin quivered. “In the car, I told Jade on the way to rescue you, I needed her to destroy it.”
“Still.” Tobias gestured his shock.
Slowly, I turned to face him. “I told Jade the story of my dad doing this very same thing when he discovered a fake. She remembered.”
His gaze moved to the painting. “She did the right thing.”
I read that from him, no regret, no sadness, merely his acceptance and I breathed out a breath of relief, realizing we had fought for her, given her a second chance and somehow, someway fate had intercepted.
“Fancy a nice cup of tea?” Tobias asked as he neared me, wrapping his arms around me and giving me the biggest hug.
I nuzzled in to him and breathed out a long sigh. “Let’s go to bed.”
We turned and hand in hand headed off to the bedroom together.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Two days later
EVENTHOUGHI’Dbeen in that underground chamber of Cloisters when Elliot Burell had confessed all the evil he’d unleashed, hearing his sinister rant pouring into the conference room at The Wilder Museum sent a chill down my spine.
Tobias and I had flown back to LA last night and he’d used his remarkable resources to ship the art collection to this hilltop gallery without detection.
Behind us upon an easel and covered in a veil of black silk ready to be revealed was a jewel in the crown of the art world. Knowing she was in this room with us felt surreal.
Burell’s words were being replayed for Abby Reynolds, Adley Huntly and Special Agent Pearson, along with Tobias’s lawyer Reynard Linde. They swapped wary glances with each other at Burell’s confession. He was admitting on that tape to stealing my father’s artwork and the monstrous act of taking down Tobias’s plane. He’d shown pride at being the cruelest warlord and admitted illegal acts against humanity.
Tobias raised the remote and stopped it. “This was recorded in New York so it’s admissible in court. As you can hear, that’s my voice and Zara’s.”
Reynard looked up at him with pride. “We’ll prosecute to the max.”
Tobias gave a nod. “Hopefully this will shut down the family’s foreign affairs and cease the murder of the innocent...” His words trailed off with the ease of a man who knew he’d achieved the remarkable.
The pathway to peace was within our grasp after years of agony, and all because of him.
Special Agent Pearson piped up. “We received an anonymous tip related to Burell’s dealings in the Middle East. The intel is with the Pentagon. Someone from the inside accessed all his data and forwarded it to us. His days of warring are over.”
“Well, that is good news,” said Tobias and he reached out beneath the desk and squeezed my hand.
“And that other matter?” I asked. “His son keeping an endangered animal?”
