The Appraisal

1
To build a scholarly genius persona for his celebrity crush, my boyfriend sent my antique collection to a TV appraisal show.
The celebrity, his crush, declared it a fake and smashed my antique vase on the spot.
I didnt even know my prized possession was missing until the show aired.
When I went public, accusing them both, they joined forces to call me an extortionist.
As the internet mob turned on me, I countered by suing them both for theft.
I wonder, for a few tens of millions, how many years will they get in prison?

The day Treasure Quest aired, I was in my new apartment, unpacking boxes with the TV on for background noise.
The host was introducing the celebrity guest, Seraphina Remar, in his usual over-the-top tone.
On screen, Seraphina was the picture of elegance in an ethereal white dress, smiling sweetly as she spoke. She lived up to her reputation as the entertainment industrys resident intellectual.
And nowlets have Seraphina determine if our next treasure is the real deal or a clever fake!
At the host's cue, a short-necked porcelain vase was carefully brought onto the stage.
I shot upright.
That vase it looked identical to one from my collection.
But wasn't my vase supposed to be at my boyfriend Calebs place?
Before I could process the thought, Seraphinas saccharine voice filled the room.
This vase, she announced with unwavering confidence, is clearly a modern reproduction. The craftsmanship is crude, and the glaze is all wrong.
She picked it up and, with a casual flick of her wrist, tossed it to the ground.
A sharp crack echoed as porcelain shattered into a thousand pieces.
The studio audience gasped.
My mind went blank. The bag of chips in my lap tumbled to the floor. A sickening premonition washed over me.
I had to be sure. I grabbed my keys and raced to Calebs apartment.
Id recently bought my own place and, before the official move, had stored most of my belongings at his.
Could he really have taken my things, put them on national television, and let Seraphina destroy them?
My heart hammered against my ribs as the image of the shattering vase played on a loop in my head.
When I got to his rented apartment, I pulled out the spare key hed given me.
But the key wouldnt turn. The lock was stuck. Hed changed the locks. That bastard had changed the locks and hadnt even bothered to tell me.
I took a deep, shaky breath and called him.
He answered, his voice thick with annoyance. What is it?
Im almost done with my new place, I said, trying to keep my voice steady. Im ready to move my stuff out.
Caleb scoffed. Im busy. Well talk about it later.
What about the lock
He hung up before I could finish.
Come to think of it, hed been impatient and distant for a while now, never even messaging me first.
Forcing myself to stay calm, I called a locksmith. After describing the situation and sending a photo of my ID, the locksmith had the door open in minutes.
I burst inside, tearing through the living room, the bedroom, the storage closet. The vase was nowhere.
My body trembled with fury. I took pictures of everything with my phone.
And then I realized it wasn't just the multi-million dollar Meissen porcelain vase that was gone. A Renaissance-era gilt-bronze statuette and a rare Drer sketch, Winter Woods, were also missing.
Each one was worth a fortune.
I tried calling Caleb again, but he rejected the call every time.
Finally, a text came through. I said Im busy, cant you understand English? Whatever it is can wait. I tried calling one more time and discovered hed blocked my number.
Fine, Caleb. Just you wait, I seethed, my teeth clenched. I called a moving service and had them transport the rest of my belongings to my new apartment.
Then, I scrolled through my contacts and dialed a number I hadnt called in a long time.
Bill, I need to borrow your lawyer. Ive run into a bit of trouble.
An infuriatingly smug voice answered from the other end. Well, well. If it isnt my dear sister. The one who said she was chasing her passion for history, joining some archaeological dig, and blocked us all. Has Miss Peyton decided to grace the mortal world with her presence again? Finally remembered you have a brother?
I was in no mood for his games. Cut the crap, Bill. Someone smashed my Meissen vase. I need to make them pay.
Bill clicked his tongue. The one you bought at the auction last year? Your favorite little toy? Fine. Send me your address. Ill have my lawyer head over.
After hanging up, I still couldnt calm down.
Id met Caleb during a time when I was estranged from my family, trying to pursue my own dreams. I thought he was kind, gentle, understanding. I never imagined he was capable of something like this.
The lawyer arrived half an hour later and helped me take inventory of my losses.
Most of my collection had been purchased at auctions with my allowance over the years. I had meticulous records for every single piece.
The lawyer, Mr. Liu, pushed up his glasses. Mr. Caleb took antiques valued at nearly forty million dollars without your consent, then changed the locks to prevent you from retrieving your property. We have a strong case for theft.
How much time would he get for something like this? I asked.
Given the extraordinary value, the statutory sentence is ten years to life in prison.
I nodded. That was all I needed to know. Just as I was about to tell the lawyer to proceed, my phone rang.
I answered it. A stern male voice was on the line. Hello, is this Miss Peyton? This is the police department. We need you to come in to assist with an investigation.
I froze. An investigation? What investigation?
Baffled, I went to the station with my lawyer.
The moment I walked in, I saw Caleb sitting across from an officer. And next to him, scrolling through her phone with a faint, smug smile, was Seraphina Remar.
The officer got straight to the point. Miss Peyton, weve received a complaint that you broke into a private residence. Please explain.
Caleb lifted his chin. Thats right. Did you break into my apartment? Thats illegal, you know.
Illegal? I laughed, a bitter, angry sound. I turned to the officer. I paid for half the rent on that apartment. All of my belongings are there. He changed the locks without my permission and stole my vase and other antiques! And now he has the audacity to accuse me?
Mr. Liu produced printouts of the rent transfers and the lease agreement and handed them to the officer.
These are records of Miss Peytons rent payments to the landlord, spanning six months. We also have records of other transfers.
Legally speaking, he continued, Miss Peyton was a co-tenant for this period and possessed the same rights as Mr. Caleb. He had no right to change the locks and bar her from the premises without notice.
The officer reviewed the documents, his brow furrowed as he looked at Caleb. Whats this about?
Calebs face stiffened. She she gave me some money, but Im the one who rented the place. She has no right to go through my things!
Go through your things? I gestured towards the contract. I have every right to retrieve what belongs to me. You, on the other hand, stole my Meissen vase, sent it to that show, and let Seraphina smash it. Are you going to deny it?
Seraphina finally looked up, her tone light and dismissive. Honey, you can stop the act now. I saw that vase. It was a cheap reproduction. Its broken, so what? I dont know where you picked up that piece of junk, but to claim its a priceless antique? Are you trying to extort us?
Calebs expression soured. Peyton, I knew you were desperate for money, but I didnt think you were this crazy. Youd stoop to this?
As he spoke, he shot a contemptuous look at Mr. Liu standing beside me. Ive been busy lately, and look at you, already hooked up with some rich guy. You know what? I wont even bother with you. Just take your junk and get out.
Mr. Liu ignored Calebs taunts and addressed the key issue. While taking inventory of the missing items, we also discovered that a bronze statuette and a sketch are gone. Mr. Caleb, it would be in your best interest to return them immediately. These are also antiques, each valued in the millions.
Caleb waved his hand impatiently. Are you done with the theatrics? Seriously. I threw all her stuff out a long time ago. It was worth a few hundred bucks at most. Millions? Thats hilarious. Go ahead, sue me. Lets see what you can possibly dig up.
I gritted my teeth, my voice ringing with conviction. Fine. Ill see you in court.
Caleb and Seraphina sauntered out, while my lawyer and I stayed behind to give our statements and solidify the evidence.
But the moment we stepped out of the police station, I was blinded by a barrage of camera flashes.
A swarm of reporters had appeared from nowhere, their lenses all pointed at me.
They surrounded us, microphones practically shoved in my face.
Questions came like machine-gun fire.
We just got a tip that a civilian is trying to extort the show and its guest, Miss Seraphina Remar, for publicity. Are you that person?
Were you brought to the police station for extortion? Or for breaking and entering?
Do you have any comment?
Even with my lawyer trying to shield me, they were relentless, like flies buzzing around my head. The noise was deafening.
But I understood. This was Seraphina and Calebs doing. They had arranged this.
Just as I was trying to figure out their endgame, Seraphina, who had been waiting outside, stepped in front of the cameras, playing the victim with a look of pure innocence.
Everyone, please dont misunderstand, she said, her voice trembling slightly. Miss Peyton might have some misconceptions about me. She claims the vase was worth millions, but perhaps she was deceived when she bought it. After all, Ive studied these things since I was a child. I do know a little something.
Her words sent a ripple through the crowd of reporters. Their gazes shifted to me, as if I were some pathetic clown.
One of them said, loud enough for everyone to hear, I bet shes doing it on purpose. You see these types all the time. They think celebrities are easy targets, that theyll pay anything to protect their reputation. Shameless.
I pointed a shaking finger at Seraphina. If my things are fakes, then why are you still holding onto my statuette and my sketch? Why wont you give them back?
Seraphina sighed dramatically. I didnt want to make a scene, but since Miss Peyton is being so aggressive, I suggest we have them appraised on the next episode of Treasure Quest. You claim the statuette and sketch are valuable, right? Then lets have a master appraiser examine them in front of a live audience. Well see then if theyre fakes.
The reporters eyes lit up. Great idea! they chorused. Miss Peyton, you wouldnt be too scared, would you?
I gritted my teeth, fury rising in my chest. I finally saw their plan.
They wanted to use the show to humiliate me again and boost Seraphinas fame.
I laughed coldly. Youre on! Lets see how you spin this lie.
A triumphant smirk touched Seraphinas lips. Excellent. The show will arrange a time. Then you can be reunited with your precious treasures, Miss Peyton.
The crowd dispersed. I clutched my phone, watching the victorious silhouettes of Seraphina and Caleb walk away.
It was a vicious move, using public opinion to crush me.
But shed forgotten one thing. My antiques all had certificates of authenticity. Every last one of them was real. She and Caleb were holding onto my statuette and sketch, thinking they could pass off fakes?
Just you wait. On that show, I was going to make them choke on their own medicine.
On the day of the Treasure Quest taping, I sat in the audience, blinded by the stage lights.
The whispers from the crowd around me were like daggers.
The producers had deliberately seated me in the audience. According to the schedule, I would only be brought on stage for an "interview" after the appraisal.
The camera kept panning over to me, and the host smirked. We have a very special guest in our audience today, Miss Peyton. We hear you have some objections to Miss Remars last appraisal?
The audience erupted in laughter. The nerve of some people, someone whispered. Trying to pass off fakes.
Shes probably just jealous of Seraphinas fame. Probably some rival fan trying to cause trouble.
I clenched my fists, the anger churning in my stomach. All I could do was bite my tongue and stare at the stage.
Lets see how they were going to play this.
Seraphina, dressed in a stunning haute couture gown, was her usual charming self, effortlessly maintaining her scholarly persona.
After a brief, superficial lecture on appraisal basics, she gestured to the statuette and sketch on the table, her tone dripping with contempt.
The provider of these treasures, Miss Peyton, despite being from a working-class background, insists they are genuine and worth millions. She has even threatened to sue me for compensation. So today, we have invited the most respected authority in the field of archaeology, Professor Albright, to give his expert opinion.
Seraphina let out a small, condescending laugh. Lets just hope Miss Peyton doesnt try to deny the results this time.
From the director's booth at the side of the stage, Caleb spoke into a headset. The host immediately turned his malicious gaze back to me.
Miss Peyton, would you care to come on stage and say a few words? Or are you only brave enough to cry foul online?
Another wave of derisive laughter swept through the audience.
Look at how shes dressed. She doesnt look like someone who can afford multi-million-dollar antiques. She must be desperate for money.
I bet after the appraisal, shell just deny it again and keep slandering our Seraphina.
Shes not bad-looking. Maybe shes trying to become an influencer by stirring up drama.
I shot to my feet, my eyes sweeping over the people who had spoken.
Is that all you do? Spout baseless rumors? Every single piece in my collection is genuine, with certificates from world-renowned experts. What does Seraphina Remar have? A carefully crafted public image?
The studio fell silent, stunned by my outburst.
But the host quickly recovered, his voice laced with false sympathy and obvious mockery.
Miss Peyton, please calm down. Rest assured, the expert we have today is the most authoritative history professor from Cambridge University. His appraisal is far more reliable than some questionable certificate you might have, wouldnt you agree?
The most authoritative history professor from Cambridge?
An elegant, familiar face flashed in my mind: Professor Albright, the mentor who had guided me into the world of history.
His every word, every appraisal, was considered the gold standard in the field.
And then, in the next second, Professor Albright himself walked onto the stage. He moved with a quiet dignity that instantly captivated the audience, drawing a round of applause.
Seraphina rushed to greet him, her face plastered with a sycophantic smile.
But the professor paid her no mind. He turned to face the audience.
I am here today, he announced, his voice clear and strong, for my student.

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