CHAPTER 21

ADAN

Standing idly by my car, parked just outside Axelle's house, I kept glancing at my wristwatch. The stolen documents from my father's safe were tucked neatly on the passenger seat, waiting. Almost an hour crawled by before her car finally pulled up. I watched her step out, but there was no sign of the artwork I was expecting. I squinted, trying to peer through her car's tinted windows, but they offered no clues.

"Where's the artwork?" I asked, a slight edge to my voice.

Axelle strode right up to me, crossing her arms with a cool stare. "You must really think I'm stupid," she said, her tone flat.

My brow furrowed in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

"You're not getting the artwork until I have the document I want." The way her chin lifted, stubborn and defiant, made it clear—there was no negotiating with her.