Mag-log inThree years after our breakup, I ran into my ex-girlfriend, and she had her new boyfriend by her side. "Hey, isn't that Henry the expert?" Diego Stanley taunted with a smirk. "Three years post-breakup, and you're slumming it here playing with clay?" I furrowed my brow, ignored them, and carefully moved the Victorian-era porcelain musician figurine onto its preset base in the display case. When I wasn't biting, he reached out to grab the figurine from my arms. "What's this junk you're treating like gold? Let me take a look." Cynthia Wyatt frowned, her voice laced with that familiar arrogance. "Henry, I've given you three years to shape up, and you're still the same loser? Come on, hand over that clay doll to Diego. Don't kill the vibe. If you play nice, I might even reconsider our old engagement." As Diego's hand neared the figurine, I dodged quickly and barked, "Hands off! It's a historical artifact!" Diego got pissed off and shoved me hard. "Some flea market find, and you're acting all high and mighty?" In the ensuing scuffle, I lost my balance, and the figurine slipped from my grasp, crashing to the floor. That sealed their fate. This entitled pair was about to go bankrupt trying to fix it.
view moreThe final verdict brought profound satisfaction.Diego, convicted of deliberately destroying a Class-One national artifact, with incontrovertible evidence and extreme severity, was sentenced to ten years' imprisonment.In court, he wept bitterly; his youth would wither behind bars. Cynthia received three years for accessory and obstruction, penalties compounded.Under multi-agency probes, the Wyatt Group was exposed for tax evasion, corruption, and more, culminating in bankruptcy and liquidation. Joyce, post-stroke, endured partial paralysis; her once-mighty domain vanished overnight.That shattered Victorian-era porcelain musician figurine, after months of round-the-clock work by the nation's top restoration experts, was meticulously reassembled. Though not pristine, it stood reborn in the display case.Each fracture received a special gold inlay, gleaming under lights, as if silently narrating its ordeal and affirming our heritage's indomitable resilience.The American Heritage
"Mrs. Wyatt, does everything in your world carry a price tag?" I cut her off. "Do you think what we protect is mere merchandise for sale? Let me enlighten you: this is our nation's memory, the roots bequeathed by our ancestors to future generations. Its value lies in heritage; its dignity is not for barter!"My words landed like an invisible slap, rendering her speechless, her face alternating between pallor and flush.Carmelo regarded her with disappointment and disdain. "Don't you get it? This isn't about money."He paused, pointing at Cynthia, who was still trying to argue, and gave Orlando his second order. "This person not only failed to halt the crime but insulted and threatened the victim, then tried to bribe her way out. Charges include accessory after the fact and obstruction of justice. Detain her as well for a thorough investigation!""Yes, sir!" Officers advanced, snapping cold handcuffs onto Cynthia this time.Joyce panicked, trying to lung over, but was blocked solid
Cynthia's poise shattered as she witnessed Diego in cuffs. Her boasted family prestige, her invincible wealth—none of it held sway now."You can't take him! Let him go!" She lunged forward but was firmly restrained by two sturdy officers.Commotion erupted outside the hall just then."Step aside! Move!" Cynthia's mother and the chairman of the Wyatt Group, Joyce Wyatt, stormed in with an imposing team of lawyers, exuding authority.Unaware of the full situation, she barked at the blocking officers. "What are you idiots doing? On what basis are you arresting people? Do you know who I am? Bring your superior here!"Her tone was domineering and entitled. But when her gaze landed on Carmelo, standing there impassively with a stern expression, her bluster froze.She recognized this high-ranking federal official; she'd glimpsed him distantly at a major government-business summit.Clutching at her last straw, Cynthia scrambled over. "Mom, save me! Save Diego!"She pointed at me, playi
Under Carmelo's gaze, as tangible as a storm, Cynthia felt an unprecedented pressure, but she still tried to play it cool. "Mr. Henson, don't take his word for it. T-This was just an accident. I admit, Diego got a bit carried away, but we'll take full responsibility. Aren't there artifact restorers these days? We'll hire the best and cover all costs—no matter how much."She persisted with her money-solves-everything mindset.Carmelo let out a cold laugh. "Restore it? With what?"He turned to the curator. "Go fetch Mr. Collins."Soon, our museum's most esteemed expert, a septuagenarian artifact appraiser named Thierry Collins, arrived.The elderly professor entered the hall, took one look at the devastation, and staggered, only steadied by the curator at his side.He shuffled to the shards and crouched down, his eyes behind his bifocals misting with tears. His voice choked, barely forming words. "What a travesty! What a travesty!"He pointed shakily at the fragments. "T-This Vict






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