Behind the Facade of Trust

Chapter 1

It was Lance Featherstone who first convinced The Grand Museum to trust the Insurance Guild's narrative.
Getting hold of the triad key and silently entering The Vault... if anyone could pull that off, it was certainly Lance Featherstone.
Would they dare to say it out loud?
To question the Foundation of Trust was already a bold move.
But this was no ordinary incident; the missing masterpiece was of monumental significance.
Among the world’s museums, it was considered a national treasure, a true asset of the state.
If the Insurance Guild had to settle for it, they would face financial ruin.
Celia Hawthorne and Lance Featherstone were well aware of each other's thoughts.
The museum desperately wanted to recover the painting to clear their names, and when the Insurance Guild came forward with their bold claims, they naïvely believed that by merely coaxing Celia from the Foundation of Trust, the painting would fall into their hands.
But they were utterly mistaken.
The Foundation of Trust had not stolen the painting at all; seeking Celia for it was akin to looking for fish in a tree—hopeless.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I ask you to remain calm,” Celia spoke gently yet firmly. “The police are working tirelessly to resolve this case, and we at the Foundation of Trust are under immense pressure as well. We understand your anxiety, as we feel it too. However, the right course of action now is to wait, not to engage in infighting. If we turn against each other here, the real thief won't lose a moment to revel in our chaos.”
Lance Featherstone silently observed his confident little woman.
Typically, in his presence, she appeared flustered and scatterbrained.
He couldn't help but worry whenever she ventured into action on her own.
But today, in this moment, watching her face adversity was like witnessing a flower bloom atop a steep cliff—extraordinarily resilient and radiant. It made him admire her courage and wisdom.
If Celia felt a sense of pride for him, Lance could now say without hesitation that Yana Hawthorne was equally worthy of his pride.
A woman so remarkable was truly his own.
Those from the museum felt a twinge of sincerity in Celia's words and began to realize they may have been quick to judge.
They were grasping at straws, so witnessing Celia's genuine demeanor gave them pause and led them to rethink their baseless suspicions.
Yet the representatives from the Insurance Guild internally groaned.
They had thought pulling the museum folks in would help them evade liability, but little did they know that with just a few words, Yana Hawthorne managed to dismantle all lingering doubt.
What truly left them at a loss was the presence of Sanford Featherstone in the room.
“It’s getting late,” Celia glanced at the clock and suggested, “How about we all go out for dinner? We could discuss any doubts around the painting's disappearance; who knows, we might uncover flaws that the police missed.”
Her confident and gracious proposal left the museum experts feeling awkward.
The insurance representatives felt stuck; they couldn’t confidently refuse nor agree.
Clearly, Yana Hawthorne had completely taken control of the situation and was steering them where she wanted.
If they went to dinner with her, it would likely mean accepting significant losses.
But if they didn’t, it was clear they would offend the silent yet imposing Sanford Featherstone.
Just then, the receptionist rushed in, her face pale with panic.
“Yana, there’s a group of people trying to force their way inside. We won’t open the door, but they’ve threatened to remove it!”
“What is going on?” Celia demanded, alarmed.
This morning had already been chaotic, and now this?
Who could be so brazen as to knock at their door broad daylight and threaten to take it off the hinges?
The Foundation of Trust had a single entrance, accessible only to employees holding identification cards.
It was working hours, so no one was supposed to be entering or exiting.
The intruders could only be kept out.

Chapter 2

Celia Hawthorne, Lance Featherstone, along with the museum experts and representatives from the insurance company, stepped outside.
Before them loomed a dense crowd, dark and unyielding, blocking the entrance to the Foundation.
Yet, two figures at the forefront caught her eye: a man in his fifties, his hair white and thinning, and another, a tall and imposing figure, his demeanor stern and somewhat familiar.
"What is going on here?" Celia felt intimidated by their presence and instinctively moved closer to Lance.
Lance Featherstone met the gaze of the tall man for the briefest moment before waving his hand dismissively. "Open the door."
The receptionist approached nervously and pressed the button to unlock the Foundation's glass doors.
With a whoosh, the door swung open.
The crowd surged forward.
The towering man stepped up to Lance, a sneer etched across his face, “Long time no see, Lance Featherstone.”
His words sent a shiver down Celia's spine. “It’s you.”
Lance glanced at Celia, surprise flickering across his features. “You know him?”
“Yes, that's him,” Celia clutched Lance's arm tighter. “He’s the one who insisted on taking you away for treatment when you were shot and unconscious. We barely managed to keep you here.”
The realization struck her—this was Marcus Blackwood, the head of the International Bureau of Security’s special task force, who had arrived in the jungle ahead of Rowan Ashby and the others. He had pushed hard to take Lance away, even branding Celia as a suspect.
Had Rowan, Samantha Hargrove, and the others not arrived in time, Lance would have been forcibly taken.
To think that this adversary was in the City of Caelum now, and for the same art exhibition.
“Don’t think you belong here,” Lance shot back before Marcus could utter a word. “This is my domain.”
In the past, the International Constabulary and the Special Operations Unit held equal status, and Lance and Marcus were rivals vying for power in the Bureau of Safety. While Lance never regarded Marcus with any real concern, Marcus had always held contempt for Lance.
Hearing Lance attempt to expel him now drew a bemused chuckle from Marcus. “Lance Featherstone, you’re no longer the captain of the International Constabulary. What gives you the right to talk to me like this?”
“Because this is my territory. The law protects property rights of citizens, and I will not allow you to trespass,” Lance replied, his tone steady yet charged with authority.
Marcus gritted his teeth in frustration.
What irked Marcus the most about Lance was his unwavering reliance on straightforward legal arguments to outmaneuver him. In the past, Marcus had sought to best Lance in their encounters, but Lance consistently sidestepped direct conflict, using the law with finesse to draw the upper hand.
Marcus had heard that Lance had lost seven years of his memories.
Yet here they stood, rivals once more, and Lance hadn’t missed a beat, maintaining his poise flawlessly.
But Marcus had come here today with intentions that couldn’t be brushed aside easily.

Chapter 3

“Lance Featherstone, you’ve hit the nail on the head. Under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t have the right to step foot on your turf. You’ve got every reason to boot me out of here, but today, I’m here to take you in,” Marcus Blackwood scoffed.
Lance Featherstone remained unfazed, his icy stare unblinking as it fixed on Marcus, refusing to say a word.
Marcus felt the weight of silence pressing down. With no response from Lance, he continued, “You’ve distanced yourself from the International Constabulary, yet you still wield the remnants of your former captain’s clout to bend officers to your will, meddling in civil and criminal matters for your own selfish reasons.”
As Marcus’ words hung in the air, Lance remained silent, his chilling gaze unwavering.
Surrounded by onlookers—friends, foes, and indifferent bystanders alike—Marcus felt a telltale flush creeping up his neck. Alone in his righteous indignation, it was clear that Lance was unaffected, his cool demeanor suggesting utter contempt.
A saying flickered in his mind: "The loudest barking comes from the weakest dog."
In any confrontation, it was often the weaker side that showed the most fervor.
Marcus was convinced he was no less formidable than Lance, yet he could sense Lance's greater strength, a chilling resilience in the face of any challenge.
“Now, I order you to accompany me back to the International Constabulary for an investigation, leading up to your prosecution in the International Court,” Marcus declared, revealing he had no plans to back down.
Lance Featherstone’s silence lingered for a moment before he replied, “Where’s your arrest warrant?”
Marcus paused, momentarily caught off guard.
With a cold smile, he shot back, “Arrest warrant? Have you forgotten that the captain of the International Constabulary has immediate arrest authority?”
“The captain of the International Constabulary?” Celia Hawthorne interjected, her voice laced with disbelief. “But you’re not…”
She halted suddenly, a twist of dread gripping her heart.
Had Marcus just claimed to be the newly appointed captain of the International Constabulary?
So he was the one Arthur Lee had mentioned, the new captain.
No wonder Arthur had sung praises about this new captain; the realization that this rival of Lance’s was Marcus made Celia uneasy.
“Surprised, are you?” Marcus caught the astonishment flickering in Celia’s eyes, a sense of self-satisfaction swelling within him. “The International Constabulary is now under my command. I occupy the very position you once held, wielding the authority you once had.”
Marcus’s words landed like stones, but Lance Featherstone simply replied with a bored shrug, “You may have the power now, but don’t lose sight of the responsibilities that come with it. Arresting me without just cause will bring severe repercussions. Authority comes with its own set of obligations.”
“Impossible to charge?” Marcus scoffed. “Are you suggesting I’m fabricating claims about your abuse of your expired captain’s powers?”
He stepped back, turning to the elderly man beside him. “You, without any evidence, commanded the International Constabulary and local police to raid Mr. Lee’s biotechnological firm and even attempted to arrest the oldest son of the Lee family. Lance Featherstone, can you honestly still deny your abuse of authority? We at the International Constabulary won’t be your scapegoats.”
Celia, unable to suppress herself, muttered, “Small-minded jerk getting carried away.”
Marcus caught her words, frustration flashing in his sharp gaze as it turned toward her.
In that moment, Lance Featherstone's brow finally furrowed in earnest.
“Marcus, if you’re going to accuse me of abusing expired authority, then as a regular citizen, I must report that you’re turning a blind eye to criminals when the evidence is irrefutable.” He could brush off Marcus’ slander, but the way Marcus looked at Celia crossed a line.
Lance’s gaze turned predatory, locked onto Marcus’s with lethal intensity.
“You know full well that the Lee family is implicated in this stolen painting incident and in the injuries suffered by Rowan Ashby. Yet you still stand with them, enabling their misdeeds.”

Chapter 4

"You ever think about what happens when the crimes of the House of Lee come to light? You’ll not only lose that shiny new captain’s badge of yours, but you could also find yourself in front of an international court, facing serious consequences."
Lance Featherstone's words hung heavy in the air, and Marcus Blackwood was left speechless.
The two men locked eyes, and tension crackled around them. In the spacious front hall, their audience held their breath, as if daring to breathe too heavily might spark an explosion.
After what felt like an eternity, a voice cut through the stillness. It came from an elder standing beside Marcus.
"You’re full of lies, Lance Featherstone," the elder spat, his finger jabbing at Lance's chest. "You accuse the House of Lee of criminal activity. Do you have any proof? And where’s your evidence in accusing the police of chasing my son? The House of Featherstone is crossing a line."
Celia Hawthorne recognized the elder as Lord Benjamin Lee, the patriarch of the House of Lee and father to Arthur Lee and Tania Lee. Given the caliber of his children, she couldn’t help but question his morals and character.
Lance Featherstone regarded Lord Benjamin with an icy glance. "The evidence will be presented in court. You don’t need to know anything more at this point."
"You’ve shut down my company! Why on earth shouldn’t I know?" Lord Benjamin slammed a notebook onto the reception desk with a loud bang, demonstrating his outrage. “Featherstone, I demand to know what happened to my daughter. And if my son is harmed, believe me, I will ensure your family pays dearly.”
“Pay dearly, huh?” Celia interjected, her tone laced with disdain. “It’s the twenty-first century, not some backwoods village. Using threats like that—how utterly barbaric. Do you even understand the law? At your age, shouldn't you have learned a thing or two?”
“Who do you think you are?” Lord Benjamin shot back, taken aback by the sudden confrontation from Yana Hawthorne. Her words rendered him momentarily speechless.
“Someone far more educated than you, that’s who," Celia declared, unleashing a tide of pent-up frustration against the Lee family siblings. Clearly, Lord Benjamin’s parenting had been abysmal if his children were anything to go by, and she felt no need to hold her tongue.
"Let me be clear: if you think you can keep spewing these threats, you’re looking at serious jail time—maybe even community service picking up litter. How can you still be this thoughtless at such an advanced age? Is it ignorance or just plain evil?"
“You’re attacking me?” Lord Benjamin exploded. “You’re insulting me!"
"Attacking?" Celia scoffed. "Does any part of what I’ve said count as an attack? You might not have any self-awareness, but you’re not as young as you think. Are you aware of the law? With nothing to back you up, you’re claiming I’m the aggressor?"
Fuming, Lord Benjamin's face turned scarlet. "You poisonous woman! The House of Lee isn’t bothering you, yet you dare to walk into our space and disrespect us. Marcus, I demand you take this person who’s attacking us away. Lock her up and bring her to court!”

Chapter 5

“No one has the right to put my woman on trial,” Lance Featherstone's steady voice cut through the tension, halting Lord Benjamin Lee’s accusations. “Unless he’s prepared to face the consequences.”
“Lance Featherstone, don’t speak recklessly,” Marcus Blackwood shot back, his tone filled with authority. “You’re no longer captain of the International Constabulary. I am. I have the power to arrest you. Not only do I think you’re abusing what little authority you have left, but I also suspect you’re somehow connected to the disappearance of that famous painting.”
At Marcus’s words, the representatives from the Insurance Guild exchanged glances, delight shimmering in their eyes.
They nodded their agreement.
Marcus quickly caught their gestures.
“Who are you?” he demanded.
“We're the representatives from the Insurance Guild,” one of the agents explained, adjusting his tie. “We’re investigating the incident regarding the substantial insurance payout. We believe the disappearance of the painting isn’t as straightforward as it seems.”
Celia Hawthorne’s disbelief surged. She couldn’t believe these individuals would turn on Lance so readily, casting aside their integrity in mere moments.
A smirk danced across Marcus's lips. “Looks like I’m not the only one questioning you, Lance Featherstone.”
“Indeed,” Lord Benjamin Lee chimed in, dripping disdain. “You raided the place and expect to pin the blame on the House of Lee. You have the gall to have the police pursue my son and try to seize our biotechnology firm. Mark my words, Lance Featherstone, your family will compensate for every loss suffered by the House of Lee.”
Marcus raised his hand, exuding confidence.
“Lance Featherstone, the complexity of this theft is on another level entirely; only someone with immense skill could have pulled it off. Based on everything I’ve considered, there’s no one in the City of Caelum with that kind of ability except for you.”
Lance Featherstone held Marcus's gaze, his expression calm. “What others say may be nothing but slander. But your baseless speculations, unsupported by any evidence, you must know the repercussions of that.”
“I’m not being reckless,” Marcus retorted, his voice booming. “I’m drawing conclusions based on facts. Although I don’t fully grasp how you did it, I know with certainty that you stole the painting. Tell me, who else could have infiltrated a heavily guarded vault and replaced all the paintings with white cloth in one night? No one but you.”
“Your reasoning is as ridiculous as saying that because a cake is missing from the table and the only other person there is a heavyset guy, he must have eaten it,” Lance couldn’t help but let out a cold laugh. “Marcus, is this the reasoning that got you your captaincy?”
“You…” Marcus was caught off guard by Lance’s derision.
In the Bureau of Safety, the Special Operations Unit was recognized for its muscle, while the International Constabulary prided itself on strategy. The hierarchy generally believed Marcus had remarkable skills, but he fell short when it came to intellect, a weakness Lance had cleverly exploited, leaving Marcus humiliated and furious.
“Whether you stole the painting or not, you’re still a suspect. If you don’t like it, we can set up a temporary tribunal right now and let everyone present decide how likely they think you are to commit such a crime,” he stated arrogantly, gesturing toward onlookers.
This childish tactic not only struck Lance as foolish but also made Celia see the absurdity of it all.
“Please, you’re the captain of the International Constabulary,” Celia interjected, unable to hold her thoughts back. “Can’t you think a bit before you speak? The theft of a famous painting is a serious matter, and identifying a suspect should be done with utmost caution. You want to set up some temporary tribunal here? Do you think this is a daycare?”
Celia’s words, though indirect, were direct enough for Marcus to grasp their implication.
Without a doubt, Lance Featherstone’s woman was mocking his intelligence yet again.

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