The Neglected Wife Is A Hidden Genius

Kevan stared at her, trying to find the angle. Everyone wanted something. "What game are you playing?"

Iona didn't blink. "No game. I just don't need your money."

Kevan stood up, his jaw tight. He caught a whiff of her scent-solvents and linseed oil. "What were you doing in there?"

"Painting," she said simply.

He stared at her for a long moment, then turned and walked toward his bedroom. "Don't burn the apartment down."

The next morning, Iona checked her email. An encrypted reply from a top-tier Sotheby's address was waiting. Her code had worked. The senior appraiser was practically begging for a private viewing, offering to meet anywhere, anytime, under any conditions. Iona agreed to a meeting in three days at a private club, demanding an NDA.

She got dressed to visit the Hollis family. As she walked out of the elevator into the lobby, she saw Kevan and Arthur waiting by the town car.

Arthur's hand was raised, and the ring glinted in the morning sun. The feeling of dread hit Iona like a physical blow. The bad luck was stronger now. It was hungry.

She walked over to them. Kevan gave her a warning look.

Iona ignored him. She looked directly at Arthur. "Mr. Finch, I wasn't joking the other day. That ring is dangerous. Get rid of it. The historical precedent I mentioned is too strong to be a coincidence. Please, don't wear it anywhere involving heights."

Arthur paled, remembering the elevator incident. Kevan stepped between them, his voice like ice. "Iona. Stop."

"I'm trying to help," she said calmly.

"You're being hysterical," Kevan snapped. "Get in the car, Arthur. We're late."

Arthur hesitated, then got in. Iona watched them drive away. She had done her duty. She hailed a cab, her mind already shifting to her family.

In the town car, Kevan was furious. "A Rust Belt girl lecturing us on antiques. It's embarrassing."

Arthur twisted the ring on his finger. "Sir, the elevator... what if she's right?"

"Coincidence," Kevan said firmly. "There's no such thing as curses."

They arrived at Vance Group headquarters. The private elevator was waiting. They stepped inside, the doors sliding shut.

Arthur stared at the floor numbers, his heart pounding. He thought about her words. "Heights."

The elevator began to ascend.

Suddenly, the lights flickered. A high-pitched screech echoed through the shaft.

Arthur's nervousness vanished.