Gwh hadn''t expected Hawthorne to leave her in charge of this mess.


    "What if the troublemaker is someone you know?" she''d asked him.


    "Then I''ll still have to do my job," he''d replied.


    It didn''t matter who was involved-if anyone damaged items in the museum, Hawthorne wouldn''t tolerate it, not for a second.


    Gwh''s doubts vanished. She was certain now: this woman couldn''t possibly be Hawthorne''s lover. If she were, wouldn''t he have stepped in immediately to defend her?


    "Alright, then," Gwh said.


    Just then, a coworker called her over, so she hurriedly hung up.


    Patti Yale, on the other hand, was fuming. She was supposed to be the woman Hawthorne adored, yet here she was, being treated like amon thief just for visiting an exhibition.


    That sense of indignation grew wild and uncontroble inside her, like weeds choking out everything else.


    As she passed one of the galleries, something caught her eye-a delicate jade hairpin disyed behind a ss case.


    She''d spent years studying abroad and had picked up a bit about antiques and collectibles. She could tell at a nce that the hairpin was worth a fortune, the jade itself wless and translucent-a rare imperial treasure. She fell in love with it instantly.


    Looking around and seeing that no one was paying attention, Patti slyly pulled out her phone and started snapping photos of the hairpin through the ss.


    She nned to show Hawthorne the picturester, then sweet-talk and pester him until he found a way to get the hairpin for her.


    She was so engrossed in taking photos that she didn''t notice two staff members quietly approaching. Suddenly, they were right beside her, reaching for her phone.


    Furious, Patti felt utterly disrespected. She''d already been groped by suspicion, and now they wouldn''t even give her a chance to exin herself.


    She had never been one to back down. She clung to her phone and struggled with the staff, and in the chaos, she crashed into the disy case.


    The protective ss shattered with a sharp crack and for a split second, everyone in the room seemed to stop breathing, hearts pounding in their chests.  s


    Everyone knew these artifacts were priceless. Thankfully, only the ss had broken; the jade hairpin still sat safely on its velvet tray.


    Patti clutched her phone, shaken into silence.


    "Get this woman out of here!" someone barked.<fnec80> Read full story at Find[?]ovel</fnec80>


    Gwh stared at the hairpin, her heart aching more than anyone else''s in the room. When the piece had first arrived, it was nearly eighty percent damaged, She''d spent two years painstakingly restoring it.  s


    The moment the ss broke, Gwh felt as if her blood had turned to ice. "Mrs. Everhart..."


    Someone approached her, speaking with utmost respect, though their eyes flickered with curiosity. They were surprised—Mrs. Everhart was so young.


    Gwh realized Hawthorne must have told the museum manager about her identity; he clearly didn''t have time to deal with this himself.


    She looked at the manager and made a subtle gesture. "Just call me Miss Langford."


    She was looking forward to meeting this "Mrs. Everhart? herself.


    The manager wasn''t sure why she wanted to use an alias, but he dared not question her.


    "Yes, Miss Langford."


    Gwh clipped a staff badge onto her jacket and strode toward Patti Yale. The manager followed close behind, and other employees watched in surprise.  s


    "Miss, I''ll need your ID and your phone number," Gwh said evenly.


    They didn''t know who this woman really was, but Hawthorne hadn''te to her


    rescue.


    If someone dared to impersonate her and throw their weight around, Gwh had no intention of letting it slide.