Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 131651 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 658(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131651 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 658(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
I have a biting urge to tell her it’ll be okay. An old instinct that’s out of place here.
For now, I know better. I keep my yap shut.
She’s a grown woman and it’s her inheritance. Let her deal with it so we can all hopefully walk out of here and move the fuck on.
Still biting that lower lip, she slowly opens the lid.
I could roll my eyes at how dramatic she’s being.
The feeling fades a second later, once I see what’s inside.
An oval object, glinting in the light, almost too magnificent to be real. It’s an orb crusted with jewels that have to be worth many multiples of my lifetime salary.
Jeweled blue and white stripes with gold accents. Not a perfect sphere, more like… an egg?
Yeah.
It’s nestled against the velvet interior like it was laid by a real-life golden goose and gently put away.
Cleo looks up, startled. Her eyes beg Wilkes for answers.
“A treasure from a world-class Russian jeweler, well over a hundred years old. Technically, an understudy of the famous name everyone knows, but I’m confident no one alive today could replicate this beauty.” Miss Wilkes’ soft voice fills the small room. “One of several jeweled eggs made for King Constantine I of Greece as an anniversary present from the Russian Tsar. Each one is—”
“Absolutely priceless,” Cleo’s voice breaks. Her hands tremble, and she looks like she wants to sit down. “Holy hell. I… I had no clue he had anything like this…”
“No one knew. Mr. Blackthorn went to great lengths to be discreet about its existence. I never knew myself until the very end when I read the will.” Wilkes smiles. “He acquired it quite some time ago.”
I glance between them, my teeth grinding together.
“So, what then? He’s been sitting on someone’s old crown jewels?”
“You’ve never heard of the House of Fabergé? It’s legendary.” Cleo huffs quickly, throwing me a purple-hued glance out of the corner of her eyes like she can’t believe I’m not mesmerized by the magic object.
Sorry, Princess.
Finger painting with Kit was the extent of my art education.
“She’s right. They were world-renowned for designing these elaborate, jewel-crusted eggs for Russian royals,” Wilkes cuts in. “This particular egg has been lost for a long time. Mr. Blackthorn discovered it and ascertained its authenticity.”
“I can’t believe it,” Cleo whispers, shaking her head. “But how did he find it in the first place? Why did he keep it a secret? He could’ve put this in a museum.”
“I know you have questions. They’re all explained in a letter from Mr. Blackthorn himself. He asked that I deliver it to you once you’d seen the Hera Egg for yourself. Now that we’ve done that, you’re welcome to read it.”
Slowly, Cleo closes the lid and nods. “Okay. I’m terrified I’ll break this just by breathing.”
“It’s not as fragile as it looks. Please, allow me.” The lawyer retrieves the box and places it back in the drawer. “You’re welcome to leave it in the vault for now if you need a moment to collect yourself. This house, and the vault, are open for your personal use until you decide how you’d like to proceed.”
“Wow. I mean—” Cleo glances at Kit, then back at the egg. “Yes. Please. Thank you. I don’t think I’ll know for a while. I’ll have to do some research.”
“Certainly. Your grandfather knew you might not come to a rapid decision. That’s why he left these provisions in place for you.” Her eyes flick to me.
Fuck, what provisions?
Cleo scrubs at her cheeks, all her arrogance gone. “Do you have the letter? Can I see it?”
Nodding, Wilkes smiles and reaches into her pocket and retrieves a small cream envelope. “Please take your time, Miss Blackthorn. Cleo.”
She gives back a tiny, nervous smile as she accepts the letter.
Without another glance, she exits the room, clutching the letter against her chest.
“Oh my God, this is amazing,” Kit says, breaking the silence as I stare numbly at the drawer. “I can’t believe you have the missing Hera Egg here. Dad, why didn’t you ever tell me your boss was this cool?”
Of course, she knows what this thing is all about, adorable little book nerd she is.
“Go ahead, Kit. Enlighten me.”
“It’s been missing for over a hundred years. They think it was stolen or destroyed, but nothing was ever proven. It’s had a ton of forgeries pop up over the years, too. They always turned out to be fake.”
“How do you absorb all this information?” I ask, ruffling her hair. “Where does it all go?”
“It sticks to my brain, Dad. Only when it interests me. You remember that Anastasia kick I was on a couple years ago?”
How could I forget? She only picked it for every movie night for three solid months. I had Bartok the bat’s lines damn near memorized.
She looks up at me, her little eyes sparkling like they do when she talks about books.