Chapter 4

When I got home, Yolanda was arranging flowers in the living room.

She saw me walk in holding a ratty plastic bag and made a face. "What is that, groceries? Or did you go dumpster-diving?"

I gave a little laugh and set the bag down on the coffee table with an air of mystery.

"Yol, you've got no eye for this stuff. This is what they call a hidden treasure. You know the type. Cost me a fortune to track this baby down."

I carefully unrolled the beat-up painting.

The landscape was still a blur, the paper still yellowed, and it even carried a whiff of mildew.

Yolanda pinched her nose and leaned in for a look. "This? It's just some junky old painting. Look, the paper's practically rotted through. And this is a treasure?"

I thought of Ethan Pruitt and that condescending face of his, and a mischievous little urge rose up in me.

Yolanda didn't know anything about paintings anyway, so why not have some fun and let her be a little in awe of me for once.

I cleared my throat and started spinning nonsense with a completely straight face.

"Yol, this is where you don't get it. This painting came from a collector who'd fallen on hard times. Word is it's a genuine work by, oh, what's his name, a real old master."

"An old master? Like a legend?" Yolanda's eyes went wide.

"Exactly! That's the one!"

The more I made up, the smoother it came. "Look at these ink tones, this brushwork. This is what they call a brush that moves like a dragon! Sure, the paper's a little damaged, but that just proves how old it is! The seller needed the money fast to pay for his kid's medical bills, so he sold it to me even though it broke his heart."

Yolanda still thought the painting was ugly, but seeing how serious I looked, she actually started to buy it.

"So how much did you pay for it?"

I held up three fingers.

"Three thousand?" Yolanda asked.

"Think bigger."

"Th-thirty thousand?"

"Amateur!" I shook my head, lowered my voice, and put on a deep, weighty tone. "Three million!"

"How much?!"

Yolanda gasped so hard she nearly dropped the vase in her hands. "Three million?! For this piece of garbage?! God, are you out of your mind!"

"Shh! Keep it down!"

I clapped a hand over her mouth. "This is an investment! This is art! A painting like this could go for ten million at auction! I scored a steal, understand? This is our family heirloom, something to pass down to our son someday!"

Yolanda looked at the painting, and her whole expression changed in an instant.

From the disdain of a moment ago to something like reverence now.

She reached out a careful finger, wanting to touch it but not quite daring. "My God, three million. That's a whole Ferrari right there. Honey, you're amazing. You can even dig up a treasure like this."

Watching my wife look at me like that, my vanity was thoroughly satisfied.

"Of course. I'm your husband, aren't I."

I rolled the painting up, pleased with myself. "All right, this thing's far too valuable. We'll pick a good day, find a top master to have it mounted, then hang it on the wall. For now I'll put it away so it doesn't get damp."

Truth was, I was worried mounting would cost too much. Spending two thousand to mount a two-hundred-dollar painting made no sense. My plan was to go online later, buy one of those cheap frames for a few bucks, and just do it myself.

I stuffed the painting into a cabinet in the study and put the whole thing out of my mind.

Little did I know what kind of time bomb that offhand lie of mine had just planted in sweet, trusting Yolanda's heart.