It Started With a Heist

Chapter 23

Emma

Forever is the sweetest con.

One of the very first life lessons I learned when I got into this life was that there was nothing sadder than a con artist conning themselves.

Because, well, the heart could play tricks too—and oh boy, they were brutal.

After all, to believe in love, to lean into forever—that was the cruelest magic of all, wasn't it? And many of us, at one time or another, let ourselves fall under its spell, thinking we could somehow outrun the truth. As if a lie, repeated often enough, could reshape reality.

But even I knew this—you couldn't con your way into a life that wasn't yours to keep.

Yet here I was, against all reason, clinging to it with everything I had. And for the first time, I was ready to fall to my knees and plead that destiny wouldn't strip it from me—that maybe, somehow, I could be the exception to the rule.

Maybe it could work.

Maybe we could work.

Jake and I had been dating for a few weeks now. And despite our tight schedules, we still found time for quiet dinners, shared lunches, and nights where it felt like nothing else in the world mattered. And life just felt... perfect.

Yet, every night before I closed my eyes, a small voice nagged at the edges of my mind, asking me how I'd let it get to this point. How had I let myself get swept away in this beautiful, impossible mess?

For as magical as everything felt, there was a part of me that knew this was madness. But I kept ignoring it, conning myself into believing I could have it all—the life, the job, and maybe even the man who made me feel whole.

And every time I was with Jake, I just found myself forgetting all the reasons this shouldn't be happening. The weight of my past, the lies, the secrets—they all seemed to lift, like every broken piece of my heart was slowly mending under his touch.

Besides, I kept thinking that Vitale was under lock and key; the painting had been returned, and maybe—just maybe—the case would soon be filed away, forgotten in some drawer.

Yet, deep down, I couldn't fool myself, not entirely. Jake had told me, over and over, that he wouldn't rest until the thieves were behind bars, too. And if there was one thing I'd learned about him, it was how determined he was. I knew he wouldn't stop.

I sighed, wishing that those tangled thoughts would slip to the back of my mind, just for a little while. Today had been a whirlwind, starting with arranging workshops, tours, and then a string of meetings with curators and exhibition coordinators. And now, as the workday was finally winding down, I wandered the museum, taking the time to engage with visitors.

That's when I noticed a couple lingering in front of René Magritte's The Lovers. Something about their curious expressions drew me in.

As I walked closer to them, a few Italian words reached my ears. They were admiring the painting, but they were also pondering the true meaning behind it.

I stepped forward, offering a small smile. "Posso aiutarla?" I asked, letting them know I spoke Italian and would be happy to help.

The couple turned to me, their faces lighting up.

"Grazie mille," the woman thanked me with a smile. "We were just wondering... if they're in love, why would they cover their faces like that?"

I nodded, glancing at The Lovers, and took a moment to gather my thoughts. "Well, Magritte often played with the theme of frustrated desires," I explained. "Here, the lovers lean in close, wanting connection. But the cloth—a veil, really—keeps them from the touch they crave. It's as if something remains hidden between them, a barrier neither can quite reach past."