Chương 5 - Những Viên Ngọc Quý và Những Bí Mật

Instead his shoulders dropped.

“I need help.”

“I know.”

“Then help me.”

“I can’t keep helping you survive the same decision.”

He stared at me.

Then walked away.

My hands shook after I closed the door.

I hated that.

Not him.

The shaking.

The part of me that still felt like a fourteen-year-old girl listening to men carry her grandfather’s bench out of the apartment one piece at a time.

The next afternoon, Ethan called.

“We found something.”

I assumed he meant Logan.

I was wrong.

He asked to meet at a secure storage office in Midtown.

When I arrived, there were three archival boxes on the table.

Old papers.

Catalogs.

Photographs.

My grandfather’s handwriting.

I stopped breathing.

“Where did you get these?”

“My father bought them in an estate lot eleven years ago.”

“From who?”

Ethan hesitated.

My stomach dropped before he answered.

“Your father.”

Of course.

I sat down.

For the next hour, I went through my grandfather’s past.

Drafts of articles.

Photographs from exhibitions.

Letters to collectors.

Sketches I had never seen.

Then I found one labeled in pencil:

AFTERGLOW.

It was a suite.

Necklace.

Ring.

Bracelet.

Earrings.

The center stone was drawn as an oval pink diamond.

No measurements.

No final setting details.

Just annotations around the margins.

Light must move before metal is noticed.

The piece ends when the stone stops fighting the design.

I ran my finger over the pencil.

“He never finished this.”

“No.”

“Why do you have it?”

“Because it was in the papers.”

“That isn’t what I mean.”

Ethan opened a small portfolio.

Inside was a photograph and a laboratory report.

Pink diamond.

Natural.

Fancy vivid.

Already cut.

Already certified.

I stared at him.

“You own this?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“My father bought it eight years ago. I inherited it.”

I looked from the photograph to Afterglow.

“You think this was the stone my grandfather wanted?”

“No.”

That answer surprised me.

“I think it’s a stone he could have designed around.”

Ethan closed the portfolio.

“I am not asking you to reproduce his unfinished work.”

“Then what are you asking?”

“If you want to finish the idea.”

I looked down at the sketch.

My first instinct was no.

Not because I didn’t want to.

Because I wanted to too much.

“What if I can’t?”

“Then you stop.”

“Easy for you to say.”

“It’s my stone.”

“That makes it worse.”

“No.”

Ethan leaned back.

“It makes it my risk.”

I looked at him.

He continued.

“The stone stays in insured custody. You work in a secure bench facility. Independent coverage. Full documentation. You don’t touch the diamond until you’ve finalized the mounting.”

“You’ve thought about this.”

“For years.”

“Why?”

He took a second before answering.

“My father loved Samuel’s work. I grew up hearing about him.”

“That’s a very expensive tribute.”

“It’s not a tribute if you don’t want to do it.”

I looked down at the sketch again.

“I want to.”

That scared me more than anything.

Three days later, my manager called.

“Come in.”

I thought corporate had made a decision about firing me.

Instead she handed me a printed lab report.

Brooke’s emerald had been sent to an independent laboratory.

The report described significant clarity enhancement.

My manager sat across from me.

“You were right.”

“I said it needed testing.”

“You were right about that too.”

“What happens now?”

“Brooke’s father is in a dispute with the auction house.”

“And me?”

“Reinstated.”

I waited.

She looked uncomfortable.

“The VIP education event next month has already been reassigned.”

There it was.

I laughed quietly.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Nora, I pushed to get you back on it.”

“I believe you.”

“You can file a grievance.”

“I was cleared.”

“Yes.”

“But the opportunity is gone.”

She didn’t answer.

That was something I needed to learn.

Being proven right did not rewind time.

The missed shift came back.

The reputation, mostly.

The event did not.

Two days later, Ryan called.

I almost blocked the number without answering.

Almost.

“Nora.”

“What?”

“Brooke and I broke up.”

“Okay.”

He waited.

I waited longer.

“I owe you an apology.”

“For what?”

He sounded thrown.

“For… everything.”

“That’s broad.”

“When we dated, I made you feel like you weren’t going anywhere.”

“You didn’t make me feel that way.”

He went quiet.

“I already felt that way. You just agreed with me.”

“Nora—”

“You told me I was wasting my life because I worked retail.”

“I was wrong.”

“Yes.”

“I thought I needed somebody who fit the life I wanted.”

“And now?”

“I think I made a mistake.”

“No.”

“What?”

“You made a decision.”

Silence.

“A mistake is forgetting your keys. You looked at my life, decided it wasn’t impressive enough for you, and left.”

“I was younger.”

“So was I.”

He breathed into the phone.

“I just thought maybe we could have coffee.”

“No.”

“You don’t have to decide now.”

“I just did.”

I hung up.

Then I went back to work.

Not the store.

Afterglow.