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Get Ready For Allvar Falck's Ruthless Return 223
223The murmurs of the crowd grew louder, and Allvar could feel the eyes of the room on him. The woman who had been considering buying the clock shot him a suspicious look before speaking up, her voice dripping with annoyance."Fine," she said, her arms crossed tightly across her chest. "If you're so sure this clock isn't worth the price, then prove it. Get it appraised."Allvar’s gaze flickered over to Howard, who stood behind the counter, his face a mixture of defiance and growing discomfort. The dealer took a step back, his shoulders stiffening as if trying to distance himself from the idea of having his prized item scrutinized. For a moment, he didn’t respond, instead tightening his jaw and glaring at the room."No need for that," Howard muttered, his voice low but clearly audible. "This clock speaks for itself."The younger man in the leather jacket snorted from the corner, clearly enjoying the scene unfolding before him. "Maybe it speaks for itself, but I don't think it's saying
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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
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225 The room was oppressively still, the weight of Mr. Larson's verdict pressing down on everyone like a suffocating fog. A collective gasp rippled through the shop as the crowd absorbed the revelation. Allvar’s eyes glinted with quiet triumph, though his face remained composed. He stood back, letting the unfolding chaos speak louder than any words he might offer. Howard was paralyzed, his face drained of all color. His mouth opened and closed like a fish gasping for air, but no sound came. His fists were clenched so tightly that the veins bulged on his hands. Gone was the swaggering bravado of the dealer; now, he looked like a desperate, cornered animal, his carefully constructed pride crumbling before the crowd. “No!” Howard suddenly shouted, his voice cracking like a broken bell. “It can’t be! This clock—this piece is one of a kind! You can’t just say it’s fake!” His voice wavered, each word soaked with desperation. Yet the uncertainty in his tone betrayed him. “Fake?” a man nea
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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
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227Howard's breath came in ragged gasps as the last of the crowd trickled out of the shop. The once-bustling space, filled with chatter and sharp accusations, now felt desolate and heavy, as though the very air bore witness to his humiliation. His pride lay in tatters, his reputation shattered. His trembling hands gripped the edge of the counter as he fought to steady himself.The quiet, deliberate sound of footsteps behind him made his stomach churn. He didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. Allvar’s presence was unmistakable, his calm demeanor like salt on an open wound.“You’re still here?” Howard muttered, his voice hoarse. He didn’t bother looking back, focusing instead on the worn wooden surface in front of him.“Still here,” Allvar replied evenly, his voice carrying an infuriating tranquility. “Unlike your so-called loyal customers. What a shame, Howard. They didn’t even bother to thank you for the show.”Howard clenched the counter tighter, his knuckles white against
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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
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229“It wasn’t supposed to happen like this,” Howard muttered, running a hand through his disheveled hair. His voice was shaky, each word tinged with desperation. “I thought—I thought I could fix it before anyone noticed…”Allvar leaned casually against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, his laughter low and mocking. “Fix it?” he repeated, one brow arching in disbelief. “Howard, the only thing you’ve been fixing is your own downfall. And honestly, you’ve done a spectacular job.”“Why are you even here?” Howard snapped, his frustration boiling over. His voice cracked as he glared at Allvar, who seemed unbothered by the outburst. “Did you come just to gloat? To rub salt in the wound?”Allvar smirked, the expression sharp enough to cut glass. “I came,” he said, his voice suddenly serious, “because I wanted to see what would happen when the great Howard Sinclair finally ran out of excuses.”Howard’s face twisted with fury. His cheeks flushed a deep red, and his fists clenched at
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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
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278The sirens grew louder, their wails slicing through the night like an ominous promise of doom. Scarface’s panic morphed into desperation as he pushed Allvar’s hand away with a snarl. His face was flushed, the earlier confidence on his scarred features now replaced by sheer frustration. He barked orders to his remaining men, spittle flying as he shouted, “Get him in the car! Now!”Allvar wiped a trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth, smirking despite the ache radiating through his body. “You really think this is over?” His voice was steady, laced with dark amusement. “I haven’t even started.”Scarface’s lip curled in disdain. “Someone shut him up!”Two of Scarface’s men lunged at Allvar in response, their movements sloppy but determined. Allvar sidestepped the first attacker with ease, landing a quick jab to the man’s jaw that sent him staggering back with a grunt. The second man swung wildly, but Allvar ducked low and drove a powerful kick to his knee, eliciting a sickenin
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277Allvar stirred, the pounding ache in the back of his head dragging him back to consciousness. His eyes fluttered open, and he squinted against the glaring light of a flashlight pointed directly at his face. Groaning, he tried to sit up, but his arms and legs were bound with thick zip ties. The rough gravel beneath him scraped against his palms as he shifted. A pair of heavy boots stepped into his line of sight.“Well, well, look who’s awake,” a deep, mocking voice said. The speaker crouched down, revealing a man with a scar running down the side of his face. His smirk was cruel, and his dark eyes gleamed with malicious amusement. “Did you sleep well, Mr. Allvar?”Allvar blinked, his vision clearing as he took in the scene around him. At least five men stood in a loose circle, all armed with knives, bats, and one with a gun slung casually over his shoulder. Their faces were hard and unfriendly, and their postures spoke of danger.“What is this?” Allvar demanded, his voice hoarse bu
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276Allvar strolled away from the Penrose estate, his polished shoes crunching lightly against the gravel driveway. The brisk night air nipped at his skin, but he welcomed the chill—it felt refreshing after the stifling tension of the evening. He tugged at his tie, loosening it with a sigh.“Well,” he muttered to himself, a faint smirk tugging at his lips, “at least Tobias won’t be pulling any more tricks for a while.”The memory of Tobias’s embarrassed face during the evening's confrontation amused him briefly, though his satisfaction was short-lived. The laughter and murmurs of the party still rang faintly in his ears, the weight of the evening pressing on him like an unwelcome companion.As he reached his sleek black car parked beneath a towering oak tree, he paused. The cool night air was refreshing, but the eerie quiet unsettled him. Even the crickets seemed to have gone silent.“Odd,” he murmured, glancing over his shoulder at the grand estate. The sprawling mansion loomed in th
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275Mrs. Penrose’s eyes widened in alarm. “You wouldn’t dare.”“Watch me,” Lily replied, lifting the clock with surprising ease.The guests who had lingered gasped audibly, their whispers growing louder as they watched the drama unfold.“Lily, put that down,” Mrs. Penrose hissed, her tone sharp with panic.“No,” Lily said firmly. “Not until you do the right thing.”Allvar crossed his arms, watching the exchange with a mixture of amusement and curiosity. “You’ve got a lot of spirit, I’ll give you that,” he said to Lily.“And she’s got a lot of nerve,” Mrs. Penrose muttered under her breath.“Grandma,” Lily said, her voice steady but tinged with frustration, “this isn’t about pride or appearances. It’s about respect. You accused Allvar of lying without any evidence, and now that he’s proven himself, you owe him an apology.”Mrs. Penrose hesitated, her gaze darting around the room. The weight of the guests’ stares bore down on her, and for the first time that evening, she seemed genuinel
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274The tension in the room lingered like a stubborn fog as the last of the guests began trickling out, their whispers barely audible beneath the rhythmic ticking of the Taillefer Clock. Lily stood beside her grandmother, her arms crossed, the frustration etched on her face making her irritation unmistakable. Mrs. Penrose, however, stood tall, her gaze fixed on the ornate clock, her expression unyielding.“Grandma,” Lily began, her tone heavy with restrained exasperation, “we need to talk.”Mrs. Penrose sighed but didn’t look away from the clock. “What is it now, Lily?”“You know exactly what this is about,” Lily said firmly, stepping closer. “You need to apologize to Allvar.”That caught Mrs. Penrose’s attention. Her head snapped toward her granddaughter, her brows knitting together in disbelief. “Apologize? To him? Absolutely not.”Lily rolled her eyes. “Why not? You humiliated him in front of everyone tonight. And now that it’s clear he was telling the truth, you can’t just let thi
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273“Authentic?” Mrs. Penrose repeated, her tone incredulous. Her sharp eyes flicked to the ornate clock resting on the velvet-draped table. “You’re sure?”Dr. Grayson, an older man with a calm, authoritative air, nodded firmly. “The craftsmanship, the materials, the markings—everything checks out. This clock is a genuine piece.”A wave of murmurs rippled through the room. Guests exchanged glances, their expressions ranging from shock to outright disbelief.“Wait a moment,” interrupted a young woman near the side, her brows furrowed in disbelief. “Are you saying this is the Taillefer Clock? The one from the Hawthorne collection?”“Yes, Miss Clement,” Dr. Grayson replied, his tone unflappable. “The very same. Its authenticity is indisputable.”“That’s preposterous!” another man exclaimed, his voice rising above the hum of murmurs. “It was stolen decades ago and presumed destroyed.”“I’m afraid the facts speak otherwise,” Dr. Grayson said, adjusting his glasses as he glanced at the cloc
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272Mrs. Penrose’s trembling fingers clutched the ornate clock as she drew a shaky breath. Her eyes darted between Allvar and the curious, restless guests, her voice sharp despite her evident unease. “And what about your clock, Allvar?” she asked, her gaze piercing. “What proof do we have that yours is authentic? Or are we simply expected to take your word for it?”The lively chatter of the room fell into an uneasy silence. Allvar’s jaw tightened, and he crossed his arms over his chest, his tone icy as he responded. “Mrs. Penrose, my clock has undergone extensive examination by the most reputable experts in the field. Its authenticity is indisputable.”“And yet,” Mrs. Penrose countered, her voice rising with indignation, “Tobias’s clock was also declared genuine at first. Until, of course, it wasn’t.” She gestured dramatically to the crowd. “Why should we blindly trust yours when tonight has already shown us that even the most ‘authentic’ can turn out to be lies?”A ripple of murmurs
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271The room buzzed with hushed voices, a chorus of disbelief and speculation, as Tobias’s footsteps faded into the night. The tension was suffocating, and the party that had once been lively and filled with laughter now felt like a courtroom. Glasses clinked uneasily, chairs scraped against the polished wooden floor, and furtive glances were exchanged.Mrs. Penrose, still clutching the ornate clock to her chest, stood at the center of it all. Her face was pale, her lips trembling as she tried to form words. Finally, her voice broke through the murmurs. “I can’t believe this. I trusted him… I trusted him.” Her tone wavered between disbelief and raw pain.“I don’t know how you didn’t see it coming,” Lily said, stepping closer to Mrs. Penrose. Her voice carried a smugness that only deepened the awkwardness in the room. “I’ve been saying it for years—Tobias is all charm and no substance. Always too smooth, too eager to please. I knew he’d slip up eventually.”“Not now, Lily,” Mrs. Penros
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270Mrs. Penrose’s lips parted in disbelief as she stared at Tobias, her hands trembling as they clutched the clock. Her voice came out in a whisper, barely audible over the murmurs in the room. “How… how could you?”The room fell eerily silent, all eyes fixed on Tobias. His face paled as he took a shaky step forward, palms raised in a desperate gesture. “Mrs. Penrose, I—I didn’t know!” he stammered. “I swear, I thought it was authentic!”A sharp voice broke the silence, cutting through the tension like a knife. “You thought it was authentic?” Lily stepped out of the shadows, her arms crossed and her brows raised. “That’s your excuse?”“That’s rich,” another guest chimed in with a sarcastic scoff. “What kind of collector doesn’t verify their gifts before handing them over? You’re not fooling anyone, Tobias.”“Exactly!” Lily added, her voice dripping with disdain as she stepped closer. “You’re not some amateur. You’re supposed to be the ‘expert’ around here, right? Or have you just bee
