Four months after the Brussels silver haul, Stéphane Breitwieser and Anne-Catherine visit a small Lucerne gallery across from the police station. Despite Anne-Catherine’s warning, Breitwieser cannot resist an unprotected Willem van Aelst. He tucks the painting under his arm and heads for the exit but is seized by a gallery employee just outside. Proximity to the station leads to immediate arrests, and they are separated into holding cells overnight.

Fearing exposure of the attic, Breitwieser spends a panicked night. The next morning, in the prison van, he and Anne-Catherine quietly agree to claim it as their first theft. In court, Breitwieser weeps and lies, taking sole blame and pleading ignorance. The police notify his mother, Mireille Stengel, who withholds any broader confession and pays their bail. They are released pending judgment.

Back home, Mireille erupts, then reverts to protectiveness and hires an expensive lawyer. The attorney frames the case as a nonviolent, first-time lapse. Neither must appear in court; both receive suspended sentences, modest fines, and a three-year ban from Switzerland. Legally, the episode ends swiftly.

Emotionally, consequences deepen. Anne-Catherine sees no viable future amid stolen art, constant risk, and life in an attic. Months earlier she had secretly become pregnant and, with Mireille’s help, obtained an abortion during a vacation trip, keeping it from Breitwieser. The arrest convinces her they need an endgame.

Discussing children afterward, Anne-Catherine insists they cannot raise one while hoarding stolen works—a poisoned gift to a child. Breitwieser briefly considers anonymously abandoning the collection to start anew. But the minimal punishment convinces him there is little risk. Anne-Catherine is chastened and seeking a way out; Breitwieser feels bulletproof and continues.