Chapter 5: The Paintings That Were Never Supposed to Disappear
“Catherine bought my mother's paintings?””
Naomi's voice trembled.
Richard looked down at the tablet.
“The records indicate that several pieces were transferred to a private collection. The transaction was listed as a purchase from the foundation's storage inventory.””
Elijah took the tablet.
“Who authorized the sale?””
Richard hesitated.
“Marcus Reed.””
Naomi turned toward Marcus.
He was standing near the entrance, speaking quietly to a security guard.
“Uncle Marcus!””
He looked back.
“What?””
“Did you sell my mother's paintings?””
Marcus's expression hardened.
“Naomi, you need to stop making emotional accusations.””
“Did you?””
“They were never formally donated to the museum.””
Naomi stared at him.
“My mother gave them to the foundation.””
“Your mother discussed donating them. There was paperwork still pending.””
Elijah shook his head.
“That isn't true.””
Marcus sighed.
“Patricia signed a temporary storage agreement. The foundation was responsible for preserving the pieces. There was no completed transfer of ownership.””
Naomi's eyes widened.
“Then why did you sell them?””
Marcus shrugged.
“Because the foundation needed liquidity.””
Evelyn Brooks stepped forward.
“Liquidity?””
She looked at him with disgust.
“You sold paintings created by struggling Black artists to solve a financial problem you helped create?””
Marcus turned sharply.
“Mrs. Brooks, I respect your contributions, but you don't understand the financial realities of this institution.””
Evelyn's voice became firm.
“I understand exactly what happens when wealthy men decide that other people's work is worth less than their own comfort.””
A few guests nodded.
Marcus looked toward Elijah.
“This is getting absurd.””
Elijah examined the transaction records.
“How much?””
Richard answered.
“Six hundred and forty thousand dollars.””
Elijah looked up.
“How much did the paintings sell for?””
Richard scrolled.
“Three hundred and ten thousand.””
Evelyn gasped.
“Less than half?””
Marcus shrugged.
“The market was uncertain.””
Elijah's voice dropped.
“Who bought them?””
Richard read the name again.
“Catherine Whitmore.””
Catherine finally lost her composure.
“I purchased those works legally.””
Naomi looked at her.
“Legally?””
Catherine lifted her chin.
“They were being stored without adequate insurance. I offered to take responsibility for them.””
“You bought them for less than half their estimated value.””
“I was helping the foundation.””
Naomi shook her head.
“You told me Mom's work wasn't worth displaying.””
Catherine's face tightened.
“I never said that.””
“You told me the museum wasn't interested in local artists.””
“That is not what I said.””
“You told me the proposal was rejected.””
Catherine looked toward the guests.
“Naomi, you need to understand that not every proposal can be approved simply because it has sentimental value.””
Naomi's eyes filled.
“Those paintings were my mother's legacy.””
Catherine gave a small, dismissive shrug.
“And they are currently safe.””
Evelyn stared at her.
“Safe in your private collection?””
Catherine didn't answer.
Elijah slowly placed the tablet on the nearest table.
“Richard, I want the purchase agreement, the storage contract, and every valuation report.””
Richard nodded.
“I'll obtain them.””
“Also contact the artists. I want independent confirmation of the paintings' ownership and market value.””
Catherine stepped forward.
“You cannot do that.””
Elijah looked at her.
“Why not?””
“Because those artists signed agreements.””
“Then the agreements will speak for themselves.””
Catherine lowered her voice.
“You're making a mistake.””
Elijah's expression remained calm.
“Perhaps. But I'm no longer willing to make decisions based on your assurances.””
Naomi looked toward the main staircase.
The museum had once felt magical to her.
When she was a little girl, her mother had brought her there every Saturday. They would walk slowly through the galleries, stopping in front of paintings while Patricia explained the stories behind them.
Naomi remembered one particular painting.
A woman standing in a field of yellow flowers.
Her mother had loved it.
She had once told Naomi that the woman in the painting reminded her of every mother who kept going even when the world refused to make room for her.
Naomi swallowed.
“Dad, was that painting sold too?””
Elijah looked at the records.
Richard searched.
Then he stopped.
“Yes.””
Naomi closed her eyes.
“What happened to it?””
Richard read the transaction description.
“Transferred to Catherine Whitmore's private residence.””
Naomi felt something inside her break.
“That was Mom's favorite.””
Elijah placed a hand on her shoulder.
“I'm going to get it back.””
Catherine gave a nervous laugh.
“You cannot simply demand private property because you dislike the transaction.””
Elijah turned toward her.
“I haven't demanded anything yet.””
“Then what exactly do you intend to do?””
He looked at Richard.
“Contact the museum's legal counsel. Notify the insurer. Preserve the transaction records. And prepare a formal demand for the return of any property improperly transferred from the foundation.””
Catherine shook her head.
“This is harassment.””
Evelyn folded her arms.
“No, Catherine. Harassment is what happened to that young mother.””
Several guests began nodding.
A man in a gray tuxedo stepped forward.
“I witnessed the slap. If the museum needs a statement, I'll provide one.””
Another woman raised her hand.
“So will I.””
Then another.
And another.
Victoria looked around the lobby.
For the first time, she seemed to understand that the guests who had laughed earlier were no longer on her side.
She moved toward Naomi.
“Can I speak with you?””
Naomi looked up.
“About what?””
Victoria glanced toward the others.
“Privately.””
“No.””
Victoria's face tightened.
“Naomi, please. I think we should resolve this.””
Naomi shook her head.
“You had a chance to resolve it when I showed you my invitation.””
“I was under pressure.””
“You had a chance when I told you I was invited.””
Victoria swallowed.
“And you had another chance when I was on the floor holding my baby.””
Victoria looked down.
“I apologize.””
Naomi stared at her.
“Do you apologize because you hurt me, or because my father walked through the door?””
Victoria didn't answer.
Daniel approached them.
“Naomi, I also want to apologize.””
She turned.
“You removed my registration record before I even entered the gala.””
Daniel looked uncomfortable.
“I was following instructions.””
“From whom?””
He glanced toward Victoria.
Then toward Catherine.
Marcus suddenly interrupted.
“This is enough. Everyone is getting carried away.””
He turned toward the security guards.
“I'm leaving.””
The head of security stepped in front of him.
“Sir, Mr. Carter has requested that everyone involved in the investigation remain available until the records are secured.””
Marcus laughed.
“You can't detain me.””
“We're not detaining you. We're asking you not to interfere with the investigation.””
Marcus looked at Elijah.
“You've changed, old friend.””
Elijah didn't respond.
Marcus leaned closer.
“Patricia wouldn't have wanted this.””
Elijah's eyes darkened.
“Don't you dare use my wife's name again.””
Marcus straightened.
For several seconds, neither man moved.
Then Richard's phone rang.
He answered.
“Yes?””
He listened.
“Are you certain?””
His eyes moved toward Naomi.
“Understood. Send it to me immediately.””
He ended the call.
Elijah looked at him.
“What now?””
Richard swallowed.
“The museum's outside auditor found another transaction.””
“Connected to the paintings?””
“No, sir.””
“Then what?””
Richard looked toward Catherine.
“It's connected to the newborn's birth.””
Naomi frowned.
“What does my daughter have to do with this?””
Richard turned the tablet toward her.
A document appeared.
It was a life insurance policy.
Naomi's name was listed as the beneficiary.
But the policy had been created without her knowledge.
And the insured person wasn't her father.
It was her mother.
Patricia Carter had been dead for four years.
Naomi stared at the screen.
“That can't be real.””
Elijah took the tablet.
His hands became rigid.
Richard continued.
“The policy was opened shortly before Mrs. Carter's death. The foundation was listed as the original beneficiary.””
Elijah looked at the signature.
“Who authorized it?””
Richard zoomed in.
A name appeared.
Marcus Reed.
Naomi's breath caught.
“Uncle Marcus?””
Marcus suddenly stopped moving.
Elijah slowly turned toward him.
“What did you do?””
Marcus looked at the document.
Then he looked at Catherine.
For the first time that evening, both of them seemed genuinely terrified.
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Because whatever they had done with the foundation's money was no longer the only secret waiting to come out.
And Naomi had just discovered that her mother's death might have been connected to something far more complicated than anyone had ever told her.