Chapter 5 - THE BILLIONAIRE'S COLLECTION OF LIES
Henrik suspended negotiations with Hayes Technologies the next morning.
The proposed investment was worth nearly $1.2 billion.
Dominic’s board reacted as though someone had set the company on fire.
Victor called six times.
Dominic answered the seventh.
“Explain why your acquisition certificate appears to carry a forged signature.”
Victor laughed.
“Dominic, please. We’ve discussed this.”
“No. You discussed it. I accepted what you said.”
“That’s what executives do. They rely on specialists.”
“And specialists are expected to tell the truth.”
Victor’s tone cooled.
“You are about to destroy a major European expansion because a former doctoral student serving dinner thinks she recognizes a photograph.”
Dominic looked across his office.
Skylar sat beside Henrik and Dr. Leila Haddad, an Iraqi-American museum curator specializing in Mesopotamian collections.
Leila had examined the documentation independently.
She was not impressed.
Dominic answered:
“Three independent specialists now question the provenance.”
“Then find three who don’t.”
The room fell silent.
Dominic slowly stood.
“Victor.”
“What?”
“You’re suspended from acquisition decisions until the audit is complete.”
Victor stopped speaking.
Then he said:
“You have no idea what Harrison built.”
Dominic’s expression hardened.
“My father built a technology company.”
Victor laughed.
“That is what he told you.”
The call ended.
Skylar watched Dominic lower his phone.
For the first time, the billionaire looked like a man standing inside a house whose foundations he had never inspected.
Leila spread the artifact photographs across the conference table.
“The historical description has several inconsistencies.”
She explained that the tablet’s proposed date did not align neatly with the published interpretation.
More importantly, its physical characteristics matched an object recorded in an Iraqi institutional collection before the 2003 invasion.
“The provenance supplied by Aurelian states that the tablet was in Switzerland continuously from 1974,” Leila said.
“That cannot be reconciled with these records without additional evidence.”
Skylar felt her heartbeat quicken.
“My father was right.”
“His concerns were justified,” Leila answered carefully.
That distinction mattered.
Historical scholarship was not magic.
A familiar inscription did not automatically prove theft.
But documentation could be compared.
Photographs could be matched.
Ownership claims could be tested.
And the contradictions were becoming impossible to ignore.
Dominic studied the acquisition agreement.
“How much did Aurelian pay?”
“Six million dollars,” Henrik answered.
Dominic frowned.
“For one tablet?”
“Not one. The tablet was part of a larger collection.”
Leila looked at him.
“How large?”
Dominic checked the schedule.
“Forty-three objects.”
Skylar’s stomach tightened.
Her father had examined seven.
If those seven were questionable, what about the remaining thirty-six?
Henrik turned toward Dominic.
“Your European expansion depends partly on the AtlasVault project, correct?”
“Yes.”
AtlasVault was a new digital platform designed to organize and verify records relating to private art collections.
Dominic intended to market it to museums, financial institutions, insurers, and wealthy collectors.
Henrik’s investment would have funded its international rollout.
Leila examined the proposal.
Then her expression changed.
“Dominic, who entered the provenance data?”
“Aurelian’s research department.”
“Under Victor?”
“Yes.”
Leila closed the folder.
Skylar understood before Dominic did.
If Aurelian had fabricated acquisition histories and entered them into AtlasVault, the platform could make questionable records appear more credible simply by reproducing them across institutions.
The technology itself might be legitimate.
The information feeding it was not necessarily trustworthy.
Dominic stared at the documents.
He had believed AtlasVault would make him a pioneer in cultural technology.
Instead, it might become a sophisticated vehicle for laundering false ownership histories.
Then Leila opened a newly obtained inventory.
Her face went pale.
“What?”
Skylar leaned closer.
Leila pointed to an item listed among Aurelian’s holdings.
A small cylinder seal.
Its description included a photograph of a distinctive crack.
Skylar recognized it from her father’s notebook references.
Leila whispered:
“This object was reported missing from a museum collection after the invasion of Iraq.”
Dominic stopped breathing.
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The disputed tablet was not an isolated problem.
His company might be holding an entire collection of looted cultural property.
