222The growing tension in the shop had not gone unnoticed. Several customers, who had been quietly browsing the shelves of antique trinkets and vintage furniture, began to shift their attention to the escalating argument. Murmurs rippled through the room as they exchanged glances, intrigued by Alvar’s boldness.A middle-aged man near a display of ornate vases cleared his throat loudly. “Well, this is something you don’t see every day,” he remarked to no one in particular, his voice carrying a mix of amusement and disbelief.“Certainly not in a place like this,” replied a younger woman standing beside him. She was holding a dusty book, her lips curling into a small smile. “Who knew antique shops could be so entertaining?”The older woman clutching a delicate porcelain figurine shook her head disapprovingly. “Young man, you should mind your business,” she said, her tone stern as she glanced at Alvar. “This lady is perfectly capable of making her own decisions without your interference.

224He stormed over to the counter, his boots tapping loudly against the worn wooden floor, the noise echoing in the small, cluttered shop. His eyes flicked over the mess of papers and trinkets strewn across the surface, as though searching for something that might explain the inexplicable situation. Howard muttered to himself, shuffling through the stack of documents as his fingers fumbled with the papers. His frustration was palpable, but he said nothing to the woman still standing near the counter, clutching the old clock with trembling hands."Do you really think it’s fake?" she asked softly, her voice barely audible as she watched Allvar, her eyes shifting between him and the clock.Allvar turned towards her, his expression neutral but his eyes sharp. "I wouldn’t be this confident if I wasn’t sure," he said, his tone calm yet firm. "But don’t take my word for it. Let the experts tell you." He gestured to the papers on the counter, trying to mask the frustration that simmered just

226“Oh, don’t go quiet now!” she continued, her voice rising with every word. “You had plenty to say when you were singing the praises of this trash. ‘A one-of-a-kind masterpiece,’ wasn’t it? ‘Worth every penny,’ you said! Turns out it’s barely worth the wood it’s made of!”“I—I didn’t know,” Howard stammered, his voice barely audible. His eyes darted nervously around the room, seeking even a sliver of support from the gathering crowd. “I swear, I didn’t know!”“Didn’t know?” she echoed, her tone dripping with sarcasm as she raised the offending clock in her hand for everyone to see. “You’re the expert antique dealer, aren’t you? Isn’t it your job to know?”“Exactly!” someone from the crowd chimed in, a young man near the back. “How can he not know? Either he’s lying, or he’s incompetent. Either way, he’s got no business running this shop!”A murmur of agreement rippled through the crowd. People shuffled closer, forming a semi-circle around Howard as if preparing for his public trial

228“Ah, there it is again,” Allvar interrupted smoothly, holding up a finger. “The great Howard Sinclair, victim of circumstance. Tell me, do you ever get tired of playing that role? Or is it just too convenient?”“I’m telling the truth!” Howard insisted, his voice rising. “I didn’t know—”“And yet here we are,” Allvar said, stepping away from the counter and walking toward Howard. His steps were slow, deliberate, his presence suddenly imposing. “Customers furious, your name dragged through the mud, and your precious reputation crumbling before your eyes.”Howard backed up slightly, bumping against the counter. “I— I was trying to save the shop,” he stammered, his desperation evident. “Do you know what it’s like to struggle every day, to fight to keep something alive?”“Save the shop,” Allvar repeated, his tone dripping with disdain. “That’s your excuse? You were trying to save the shop, so you what, decided to sell counterfeit antiques? Brilliant plan, Howard. Truly inspired.”“I di

230Howard straightened up, trying to appear composed. “Yes, that’s me. If you’re here to complain, I—”“I’m not here to complain,” she interrupted, pulling out a leather-bound notebook from her bag. Her voice was calm, yet carried an edge that made Howard feel even smaller. “I’m Clara Bennett, an investigator for the Better Business Bureau. We’ve received multiple complaints about your shop over the past few months, and after today’s... spectacle, I think it’s time we had a chat.”Howard blinked at her, his heart pounding. “Spectacle? What do you mean? I—I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”Clara raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “Oh, you don’t? Let me refresh your memory.” She flipped open her notebook, scanning the first page. “Just this morning, we received a report of counterfeit goods being sold under false pretenses. Apparently, the buyer didn’t notice until they tried to get an appraisal done. That ring you sold as a vintage piece? Fake.”Howard’s heart sank fur