I Came Back to Stay Quiet, but They Would Not Let Me

Miro stepped into another late-night gate call with a flashlight in one hand and a bronze vessel file in the other. She was young enough that every adult in the room first saw a child, then a threat, then the only person who could spot a fake before it went on display. Her work for the government crisis team kept sending her into rooms where rich people lied, panic spread, and old objects mattered more than they should. When she was right, powerful people smiled too hard. When she was wrong, they treated her like a kid who had gotten lost in the wrong building. The hardest part was that Miro cared anyway, even when her voice shook and her hands would not stay still. She had one gift that cou...