The private room wasn’t what Lily expected.

It was smaller than the gallery but felt warmer, like someone had actually thought about how it should feel, not just how it should look. The lights were soft and clean, angled perfectly toward the single easel set in the middle of the room. Everything else was quiet. No music, no sound, just stillness. She liked that.

She walked in slowly, set her bag down on the long oak table by the wall, and began unpacking. Gloves. Flashlight. Loupe. Macro lens. A slim leather notebook. Everything was familiar. That helped.

Behind her, Victor didn’t say a word. He stood at the door for a while, watching, like he was waiting for something. She didn’t ask what.

Lily pulled on her gloves, turned toward the painting, and let herself sink into the work.

It looked different here. Not better, just more exposed. Without the red velvet curtain and the showy spotlight, it felt raw. Quiet. Like it had waited a long time to be seen properly.

She leaned in a little and studied the texture of the paint. The brushwork was soft but certain, layered just enough to give the canvas breath. If it was a forgery, it was a good one. But something about it felt real. She didn’t trust feelings, though. She trusted the work.

Behind her, she finally heard Victor move. He walked in without a sound, stopped a few steps behind her, and just… stayed there.

“They say you never miss a fake,” he said, voice low.

She didn’t turn around. “People say a lot of things.”

“But about you, it seems to stick.”

“I don’t work off guesses.”

“I know.”

Lily glanced at him. He was standing close now, hands still in his pockets. His expression was calm, maybe curious. He didn’t look like a man who needed anything, and maybe that’s why she couldn’t quite read him.

She looked back at the painting. “If this is real, it’s worth a fortune.”

He nodded once. “I’m aware.”

“Then you understand why I need time.”

“I wouldn’t have asked you here if I didn’t.”

The way he said it made her chest tighten for just a second. She didn’t respond. Instead, she switched on the flashlight and started scanning the edges of the canvas, checking for inconsistencies, for anything that didn’t belong.

He stayed quiet, watching.

She spoke softly, mostly to herself now. “The age lines look natural. Pigments seem right for the period, at least under this light.”

“You’ll need more than light, I assume.”

“I will.”

“Whatever you need. It’s yours.”

His voice was closer than before. Not by much, but enough. She could feel the space between them shrink. Not in a threatening way. It was subtle. Careful. But it was there.

Lily didn’t look up. She didn’t have to. His presence was hard to ignore.

“I’ll have to take a few samples,” she said. “Send them out. Run some tests.”

“Do what you need to do.”

She took another step toward the painting and adjusted the loupe over one eye. Up close, the detail was even more convincing. The brushstrokes had rhythm. They breathed. That was hard to fake.

Still, she stayed quiet a moment longer, thinking. Looking. Letting herself settle.

When she pulled back and took off the loupe, Victor was still right there. Closer now. She could feel the weight of his eyes on her face.

She turned to him slowly. “You really believe it’s authentic?”

“I believe it’s worth asking the right person.”

She held his gaze for a beat. It was steady. Not intense, exactly. Just… locked in.

“I’ll need a couple of days,” she said.

He nodded. “Take three.”

“I’ll come early.”

“I’ll be here.”

They didn’t move right away. Neither of them seemed in a hurry to break the quiet. She could feel her own heartbeat again, steady but loud in her ears. She hated that.

She looked down at her tools and began packing them away, one by one. Victor didn’t speak. He just stepped back, giving her space again like nothing had shifted.

But something had.

She closed her bag and pulled off her gloves. “I’ll let myself out.”

“I’ll have the room ready.”

Lily gave a small nod and walked to the door. Her steps were slower now. The air felt different on the other side of that room. Lighter, somehow, but not calmer.

When she stepped out into the hallway, she took a deep breath.

It didn’t help much.