Clean Hands

The auction house has been on the Rue du Faubourg Saint-Honoré for a hundred and forty years. The sale is private. Invitation only. The lots are exquisite. The provenances are meticulous.

Except one.

When the head of provenance research is found dead in the restoration studio, the sale continues in forty-eight hours. The painting in question is worth sixty million euros. And the provenance gap isn’t a gap — it’s a door.

In the art world, clean hands are the ones that haven’t been caught.

“I wanted you to find the seam in every case I sent you.”