Chap­ter 1 begins in Feb­ru­ary 1997, with Stéphane Bre­itwieser and his girl­friend, Anne-Cather­ine Klein­klaus, embark­ing on a vis­it to the Rubens House in Antwerp, Bel­gium. At first glance, they appear to be typ­i­cal tourists enjoy­ing the art and his­to­ry sur­round­ing them, but their true inten­tions lie far beyond mere admi­ra­tion. The cou­ple moves seam­less­ly through the muse­um, tak­ing in the beau­ti­ful works on dis­play while Bre­itwieser focus­es on his pri­ma­ry goal: an ivory sculp­ture of Adam and Eve. This piece, which had cap­ti­vat­ed his atten­tion dur­ing a solo recon­nais­sance vis­it, was now the object of his metic­u­lous­ly planned heist.

The sculp­ture, encased in a plex­i­glass dis­play case, is secure­ly fas­tened to a stur­dy base, mak­ing it appear impen­e­tra­ble. How­ev­er, Bre­itwieser, ever the obser­vant plan­ner, has iden­ti­fied a cru­cial vul­ner­a­bil­i­ty. The back of the dis­play case is held togeth­er by two tricky screws, hid­den from the casu­al observ­er, but eas­i­ly acces­si­ble with the right tools. The muse­um staff, though atten­tive, fol­low a pre­dictable rou­tine, leav­ing brief win­dows of oppor­tu­ni­ty where their super­vi­sion laps­es. These moments, par­tic­u­lar­ly dur­ing busy lunchtimes when many vis­i­tors are dis­tract­ed by their own activ­i­ties, pro­vide the per­fect cov­er for Bre­itwieser to act. As the cou­ple moves through the gallery, they blend in effort­less­ly, seem­ing like any oth­er vis­i­tors while secret­ly prepar­ing for the heist that will unfold in the next few min­utes.

With the muse­um space slow­ly clear­ing as lunchtime approach­es, the time for action is immi­nent. Bre­itwieser takes out a Swiss Army knife, care­ful­ly posi­tion­ing him­self behind the sculpture’s dis­play case. His every move­ment is cal­cu­lat­ed, work­ing quick­ly to unscrew the two hid­den screws that will release the pre­cious arti­fact from its con­tain­ment. His heart­beat quick­ens, but his com­po­sure remains steady as he con­tin­ues to oper­ate in the role of a casu­al art lover, feign­ing inter­est in the dis­plays while secret­ly prepar­ing to make his move. Anne-Cather­ine stands watch, keep­ing a care­ful eye on the hall­way and the muse­um staff as they patrol, ensur­ing that no one walks into their path at the crit­i­cal moment. With every turn of the screw, Breitwieser’s excite­ment builds, feel­ing the ten­sion of the heist and the rush of adren­a­line surge through him.

Once both screws are removed, the plex­i­glass case is no longer hold­ing the sculp­ture in place. Bre­itwieser swift­ly lifts the ivory Adam and Eve, care­ful not to make any noise that would draw atten­tion. He slips the piece into the waist­band of his pants, skill­ful­ly cov­er­ing it with his coat. The entire oper­a­tion has been con­duct­ed with such pre­ci­sion that, even though he now holds a stolen arti­fact, he remains calm and com­posed. He knows that lin­ger­ing too long in the muse­um could attract unwant­ed atten­tion, so he takes the oppor­tu­ni­ty to leave the dis­play area as quick­ly as pos­si­ble. The hus­tle and bus­tle of the muse­um, com­bined with the nat­ur­al dis­trac­tions of lunchtime, allows him to move undis­turbed through the gallery and out the door.

Out­side, the cou­ple walks to their parked car, a mid­night blue Opel Tigra, parked a short dis­tance away from the museum’s entrance. As they climb into the car, the weight of the stolen sculp­ture is momen­tar­i­ly for­got­ten, replaced by the eupho­ria of their suc­cess. Their hearts race with excite­ment, as they both feel a rush of vic­to­ry at pulling off such a dar­ing heist. They dri­ve away into the night, exhil­a­rat­ed by their crime but still pro­cess­ing the mag­ni­tude of their actions. The world out­side feels momen­tar­i­ly still, as if time has slowed for them to savor their moment of tri­umph. They know that what they have just accom­plished is a dan­ger­ous game, but for now, they are free—young, in love, and rev­el­ing in the thrill of their suc­cess­ful theft.

This moment, how­ev­er, is fleet­ing. The stolen sculp­ture, now safe­ly hid­den from the world, becomes more than just an object—it is a sym­bol of their escape, their rebel­lion against the ordi­nary. For Bre­itwieser, this theft is more than an act of crime; it rep­re­sents a moment of free­dom, a chance to seize con­trol over some­thing beyond the con­straints of his every­day life. For Anne-Cather­ine, too, the thrill of par­tic­i­pat­ing in such an auda­cious act cre­ates a bond with Bre­itwieser, one built on shared secre­cy and excite­ment. The night is young, and for the cou­ple, it feels as if they have crossed a line from which there is no return.

As the car dri­ves fur­ther from the muse­um, the rush of their accom­plish­ment slow­ly begins to set­tle into a qui­et sense of sat­is­fac­tion. Yet, both know that this is just the begin­ning. What start­ed as a sin­gle, cal­cu­lat­ed theft will lead to a series of events that will chal­lenge their rela­tion­ship, their ideals, and their futures. The stolen sculp­ture may be in their pos­ses­sion for now, but the con­se­quences of their actions have only just begun to unfold. The real test lies ahead: Can they con­tin­ue to live with the weight of their crime, or will their thrill-seek­ing ways even­tu­al­ly catch up with them?