Chapter 2 - THE TWELVE MINUTES
Dr. Aaron Patel examined Sabrina in the small sitting room beside the library.
Bruised hip.
Tender wrist.
Nothing broken.
“You’re going to hurt tomorrow,” he told her.
Sabrina nodded.
“I’ve had worse.”
Gideon stood nearby.
“Not in this house.”
She looked at him.
He meant it as reassurance.
It sounded like an apology.
Leo sat on the sofa wrapped in a blanket despite the warm June afternoon.
He had not spoken about the gallery.
Every time Gideon approached the subject, the boy’s shoulders tightened.
So Gideon stopped.
Instead he asked, “Do you want Sabrina to stay with you?”
Leo nodded.
“Do you want me here?”
Another nod.
“Do you want Vivienne here?”
Immediate head shake.
Gideon’s stomach turned.
He had married Vivienne two years earlier.
He had believed the adjustment was difficult but normal.
Leo had lost his mother at four.
Vivienne had entered his life when he was five.
There had been resistance.
Nightmares.
Withdrawal.
Occasional anger.
Vivienne said it was grief.
The child therapist she recommended said it was grief.
Gideon had accepted that explanation because it made sense.
Now he wondered whether making sense had been enough.
Sabrina sat carefully beside Leo.
“Your dad isn’t asking you to tell anything right now.”
Leo looked at her.
“You promise?”
Gideon felt something twist in his chest.
Why did his son need permission not to speak?
“Yes,” Gideon said. “I promise.”
Leo finally relaxed slightly.
Dr. Patel left with instructions.
No urgent medical problem.
That should have brought relief.
Instead Gideon went directly to his study.
The security system was professionally installed and cloud-backed.
Hallway camera.
Foyer.
Exterior doors.
Gallery corridor.
Staircases.
Service entrances.
Not bedrooms.
Not bathrooms.
Not the interior of Elise’s gallery.
His first wife had hated the idea of cameras around the artwork.
Not from secrecy.
From principle.
“This is a home, Gideon,” Elise had once said. “Not Fort Knox.”
He smiled at the memory.
Then the smile disappeared.
He pulled up the hallway footage.
12:04 p.m.
Empty corridor.
12:05.
Sabrina passed carrying folded linens.
12:07.
Vivienne crossed toward the gallery corridor.
12:09.
Leo appeared at the far end.
Running.
Not walking.
Running.
Gideon leaned closer.
Leo looked over his shoulder.
Vivienne followed.
Not chasing.
Moving quickly.
Leo reached the main hall.
At 12:10, Sabrina returned.
Leo ran directly into her arms.
Sound was available.
Gideon increased volume.
Sabrina:
“What happened?”
Leo:
“She said—”
The rest was unclear because Vivienne entered frame.
“Leo.”
The boy stopped talking.
Vivienne stepped closer.
“Come here.”
“No.”
“Now.”
Sabrina asked, “Mrs. Harrow, is something wrong?”
Vivienne said, “This is family business.”
Leo whispered something.
Sabrina looked down at him.
“What?”
Then louder:
“He’s afraid of you.”
The confrontation followed.
The kick.
The fall.
Gideon stopped the video.
He had seen enough to know Sabrina had not manufactured Leo’s fear.
But the most important section remained invisible.
Whatever happened before 12:09 occurred near or inside the gallery.
The corridor camera showed movement but not detail.
The gallery itself had no camera.
Gideon checked access logs.
Vivienne entered at 11:51.
Leo entered at 12:02.
Sabrina never entered.
Why had Leo gone into the gallery?
He rarely did alone.
The room belonged emotionally to Elise.
Gideon had preserved it partly as she left it.
The collection had been professionally maintained, but he avoided the space when possible.
Too many memories.
His avoidance suddenly felt irresponsible.
There was a knock.
Sabrina entered.
“Leo fell asleep.”
“How is he?”
“Tired.”
She looked at the screen.
“You watched it.”
“Yes.”
“Did it show what she did before?”
“No.”
Sabrina hesitated.
“What?”
“Leo said something when I found him.”
“What?”
“He said she was taking his mother away.”
Gideon frowned.
“What does that mean?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did he say anything else?”
“He asked me if people can move paintings without telling the person they belong to.”
Gideon stopped.
“What?”
Sabrina nodded.
“That’s why I tried to ask Vivienne what was happening.”
“You didn’t tell me this downstairs.”
“She kicked me thirty seconds later and then you came home.”
Fair.
Gideon stood.
“Show me.”
“The gallery?”
“Yes.”
They walked together.
The gallery door was closed.
Gideon unlocked it.
Inside, twenty-three works hung under carefully controlled lighting.
Seventeen belonged to Leo’s trust.
The rest were Gideon’s.
Everything looked normal.
Sabrina walked slowly along the wall.
Then stopped before a nineteenth-century Italian painting Elise had adored.
A quiet landscape in late afternoon light.
“She called this Bellini,” Sabrina said.
“I know.”
“She used to make Leo find the little crack.”
Gideon looked at her.
“What crack?”
“In the lower right corner of the frame. A tiny line in the gilding.”
Sabrina leaned closer.
Her face changed.
“It’s gone.”
Gideon stepped beside her.
“It was repaired.”
“No.”
“How do you know?”
“Elise refused to repair it.”
“Why?”
“She said damage is part of history.”
Gideon remembered.
That sounded exactly like Elise.
He looked at the painting again.
Everything appeared right.
Still, something unsettled him.
Sabrina moved behind the frame carefully without touching it.
“There should be a conservation label.”
Gideon frowned.
“What label?”
“A small blue mark from Whitmore Conservation. Elise documented all major works.”
“Maybe it was removed.”
“Maybe.”
She did not sound convinced.
Gideon called the estate collections manager, Thomas Reed.
No answer.
He called again.
Voicemail.
Then he checked the gallery environmental-monitoring system.
The Bellini frame sensor had been disconnected twice in the previous six months.
Once in March.
Once nine days ago.
Both entries were marked:
Authorized maintenance — V. Harrow.
Gideon stared.
Vivienne had no reason to handle conservation equipment.
His phone buzzed.
A text from her.
Can we please talk like husband and wife instead of treating me like a criminal?
He did not answer.
Instead he called an independent art conservator.
“Dr. Elaine Mercer?”
“Yes?”
“My name is Gideon Harrow.”
A pause.
“I need a confidential examination of several works at my home.”
“When?”
“As soon as possible.”
Sabrina watched him.
He hung up.
“What do you think happened?” she asked.
Gideon looked at the painting.
“I don’t know.”
Then he corrected himself.
“And I’m not going to guess.”
He had spent years making decisions based on probability.
Markets.
People.
Deals.
But this involved his son.
So for once, Gideon wanted something stronger than instinct.
He wanted proof.
Upstairs, Vivienne stood behind a locked guest-room door.
Her second phone was pressed to her ear.
Adrian Carlisle’s voice came through.
“You said the gallery was safe.”
“It was.”
“Was?”
“Leo noticed Bellini.”
Silence.
“How?”
“He remembers the frame.”
Adrian swore.
Vivienne whispered, “We need to move faster.”
“No. We need to stop.”
“We can’t.”
“You kicked the maid on camera.”
“That has nothing to do with the paintings.”
“It has everything to do with whether Gideon starts looking.”
Vivienne closed her eyes.
“He hasn’t seen inside the gallery yet.”
Adrian answered:
“Then pray he doesn’t know what he’s looking at.”
May you like
Downstairs, Gideon was already bringing in someone who did.
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