Page 105 of Take the Sub and Run

“You are so talented, Sofie. A true gift from God.”

Sofie clutched the strap of her bag, sending all of her tension into her hands where they gripped the strap so her voice stayed steady. “Whose house is this?”

“If you’re here, surely you must know,” her father chided.

“You never told me I had other family. An aunt. Uncle.”

“Isn’t the church, in all its glory, not your family?”

Her cheeks burned and she wished she could scream at him to stop.

“You should not be here,” Noah said when she didn’t respond.

“Why not, my art is here?”

“Safe. On display even. Isn’t that better than leaning against a wall in your studio?”

“Better is where I say it is. I’m the artist. These are mine. Not copies, mine.” She hated that she sounded like a child arguing over a toy or treat instead of piece of her own soul made material with paint and ink.

Noah shook his head in disappointment. “And what do you plan to do with them?”

“What any artist would. Sell them. Have a gallery show. Start a social media account and film myself painting.”

“And what will happen when people see how good you are? When they realize that your brushstrokes are indistinguishable from those of Caravaggio and van Gogh.”

“You mean, what happens if they realize I can paint like van Gogh, see that you are my father, and then remember that you just happened to magically find two previously undiscovered van Goghs. You care only because my art existing might threaten your scheme.”

She wanted to see shame or maybe shock that she'd figured it out. Instead, he only inclined his head.

“Exactly.”

It was too much. All of it, a whole lifetime building to that moment. “Why? Why couldn't you have adopted me and made me a real daughter? Why couldn't you have encouraged me to be a famous painter instead of a forger? Why did you take my paintings and try and pass them off as these lost masterpieces? Are you going to sell them?”

“Sell them? No. The items in the Vatican Apostolic Archive are not for sale.”

“Then why?” She wished she could be calm and cool in this moment, but emotion leaked into her voice. “Why would you take this from me if you aren’t even going to sell them?”

“Because, in future years, if anyone were to ever question one of your forgeries, I will offer these newly discovered pieces as a basis for comparison. The most famous paintings in the world have been cleaned, restored, and cleaned again. But I will show them a pristine van Gogh, preserved because it was forgotten, and that…that will be what van Gogh truly looks like.”

Sofie stared at him. It made a twisted sort of sense, but she still didn’t understand why.

“That might work in the short-term, but longer-term someone will ask questions. Or there will be some new test that will prove they’re too new.”

“And when that happens, all art will be questioned.”

Perhaps he was mad. Perhaps the reason for all of this was that simple.

“Father…that makes no sense.”

“It does, because when they begin to doubt the art that hangs on their walls—and certainly many of them will be the copies you made, their doubt will not be misplaced.” He paused, apparently regathering his train of thought. “We will take it, those beautiful things now deemed worthless. They will be returned to the church, which is where they should always have been.”

Thinking he'd lost his mind might actually be better than this truth.

“Everything you've done is to sow doubt among the art community so that someday they'll think everything is worthless, and give those pieces to the church?”

“Too many of the things in museums are Catholic art. They were created for the church. The church was their patron. The artists themselves were devout."

“What's the point of the church having all these things when you already have more than you could ever display? Vatican City itself isn't even big enough for the museum you’d need to display all the things already in the museum’s archive.”

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