92. The Magical Ring
Chapter Ninety Two

Henry barely had a chance to argue with the security guards who had gathered around him, their expressions tense and expectant, waiting for his confession.

“Gentlemen, you have the wrong person!” Henry protested, trying to keep his voice calm but firm. “I didn’t destroy the painting. Mr. Woods was the one who—”

One of the guards interrupted him, shaking his head. “Sir, we need you to cooperate. The gallery manager and several witnesses have stated that you were involved.”

Henry’s frustration boiled over. But just as he was about to defend himself, his eyes drifted to the painting, now abandoned on the floor. His anger faded, replaced by an odd sense of wonder.

There was something strangely captivating about the artwork, even with the fresh tear marring its beauty.

Ignoring the murmurs of the guards, Henry crouched down, his hand reaching out as if on instinct. He gently lifted the edge of the canvas, examining the fine details up close.

The brushstrokes were
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