Ch48 - Used to it

Dylan looked up as Violet came back. “Hey, so—did you actually get to see Josef?”

She walked back to her seat, steps heavy, shaking her head. “No. His assistant came to pick it up instead.”

“Ah, that sucks…” Dylan saw her disappointment and added quickly, “Hey, don’t be too bummed. Edward goes to Switzerland at least once a year. He’ll probably take you next time. You’ll get to meet Josef then.”

“Hopefully,” she said with a faint smile, though she didn’t have much hope in it.

They both went back to their workstations, the workshop returning to its steady hum of small tools and focused silence.

Earlier, she’d polished the bezel, smoothing out the surface scratches. Now came the most important part—the movement. She checked the clock. Almost 2pm. If she started now, it’d take five or six hours at least. So she grabbed a quick sandwich from the café next door, scarfed it down in fifteen minutes, and came right back.

Switching to finer tweezers and anti-static gloves, she took a slow breath. This part always required a surgeon’s patience. Every tiny piece had to come out one by one.

The movement was about the size of a coin, but it hid over two hundred parts inside—some smaller than sesame seeds, others thin as paper. Lose focus for even a second, and one could vanish.

The sunlight that had been filtering in through the window grew weaker, the shadows stretching. Then, in what felt like an instant, the sun was gone entirely.

When Dylan walked by later and said, “Hey, it’s past six—aren’t you heading out?” 

She finally looked up and realized the sky had already turned gray. Streetlights flickered on outside one by one.

She looked back down at her progress—the movement was 2/3 disassembled. It was the worst place to stop. Leaving a job half done always made her itch. “I’m almost there,” she said. “If I can finish this part, I can leave the components soaking overnight.”

“You really don’t waste a single minute, huh?” Dylan chuckled. “Alright, I’ll leave you the key then. Just make sure to lock up when you go.”

He placed the key on her desk.

“Got it. I’ll check everything before I leave. Don’t worry,” Violet said.

Once everyone left, the silence hit. No machines, no chatter—just the faint hum of the city outside. She sent off a quick text, set her phone down, and went back to work, separating the remaining parts with precision, inspecting each under the magnifier, deciding which needed replacing.

When everything was finally sorted into the cleaning trays, she exhaled deeply. Done for the day.

Stretching her arms, she tidied up her tools, double-checked the locks on the storage room, then grabbed her bag, turned off the lights, and headed for the door.

Just as she was about to close up, she realized a problem—she couldn’t reach the shutter lever. She tried tiptoeing, even jumping a couple of times, but her fingers barely brushed the edge.

Everything inside was worth a small fortune. There was no way she could just leave it unsecured.

Thought for a second, then she went back inside and dragged out a chair. Luckily, she was dressed casual as always, so climbing up was easy. She managed to grab the bottom edge of the shutter—just needed to pull it down to the floor and she’d be done.

Both hands on the shutter, she started to step off the chair—

—when suddenly, two hands gripped the chair beneath her.

She froze. Her arms were still stretched forward holding the shutter, so she couldn’t see who it was right away. For a few seconds, she had no idea what was happening.

Then a man’s calm voice came from below. “That’s kinda dangerous, don’t you think? What if you’d fallen?”

Violet quickly let go of the shutter and turned around—Edward’s face was right there in front of her.

“What are you doing here? I thought you said you’d be out all day.”

Edward kept one hand steadying the chair and used the other to make space for her to come down. “I was supposed to be, but I left a contract here. Had to come grab it. Go on—step down.”

He reached out a hand for her to hold. Once she was safely on the ground, he picked up the chair with one arm and carried it back into the workshop. “Next time something like this happens, call me, alright?”

Violet nodded, following him inside to switch the lights back on.

He glanced over his shoulder. “You in a rush to leave? If not, wait till I’m done and we’ll head out together.”

She suddenly remembered something she wanted to ask him and nodded. “Okay, I’ll wait.”

When Edward came back, he had a folder in hand. He passed it to her to hold while he pulled the shutter down and locked it.

“Hey, did you know Mr. Reinhardt stopped by today?” Violet asked as they walked out of the building side by side, handing him back the folder.

“Yeah… found out after the fact.” Edward chuckled. “That old man’s always like that—doesn’t follow any schedule. Pops in outta nowhere, disappears just as fast. So honestly? Not surprised at all.”

Violet looked up at him, eyes wide and bright, clearly hoping for more stories about Josef Reinhardt. Edward found her expression amusing—though a little bittersweet too. “Funny thing is,” he said, “I told him that if he ever dropped by, I’d introduce you to him myself. Shame I wasn’t here today. He didn’t give you a hard time, did he?”

“Nope. Didn’t even get the chance to talk to him,” Violet said, tilting her head up.

Under the streetlight, her eyes shimmered like clear glass, and for a split second Edward’s heart skipped. He quickly looked away, hiding the moment behind a light laugh. “Don’t worry—you’ll get your chance. I’ll be visiting his studio in a couple months. You can come with me.”

“Really?”

“Really. He’s got some incredible treasures over there—stuff rarer than that pocket watch you saw. His collection’s basically a private museum.” Edward fished his car keys out of his pocket. “So, where do you live? Come on, I’ll give you a ride.”

The street was quiet, taxis rare at this hour. Violet didn’t argue. “Thanks—I appreciate it.”

——

Julian couldn’t help feeling a bit relieved that his cousin Marcus was too busy cleaning up his own mess these days to keep an eye on him. The “surveillance” had clearly loosened up — finally, a night where he didn’t have to fake a trip to some bar, sneak out the back door, and pretend to be the spoiled playboy everyone thought he was.

Instead, he could focus on the real work — the one that actually mattered.

In a quiet, hidden spot known only to him and his business partners, he went over the numbers and files spread out on the table. If his calculations were right, he was close — so damn close to getting everything out in the open.

And then there was the evidence.

His father and brother had both died in that plane crash on the way to Germany. Originally, the plan had been to fly separately — standard corporate risk-splitting procedure. But for some reason, Victor, his older brother, had taken a call right before the trip and decided to cancel his own flight… and board their father’s instead.

It was the private jet that went down. Fifteen people on board. No survivors.

But now someone had reported seeing one of the supposed victims — the family’s financial advisor — alive, walking the streets of Munich. It wasn’t confirmed yet, but if it were true… Julian couldn’t exactly go around asking questions out loud.

On the drive home, he started brainstorming excuses — how to justify a sudden trip to Munich without making Serena suspicious.

As usual, the butler, Mrs. Jones, came to take his coat as soon as he walked in. She had this habit of giving small household updates every night — things like “Madam’s waiting for you in the drawing room,” or “She baked dessert today and saved you a slice,” or “She bought fresh flowers for the living room.”

He’d gotten used to it. So the silence tonight felt… off.

“You’re awfully quiet today,” he said.

Mrs. Jones smiled faintly. “If I remember correctly, a few days ago you looked rather annoyed, as if you thought I talked too much.”

“I did?” Julian frowned, trying to recall. Maybe it was that day she’d mentioned Violet baked dessert. He wasn’t a dessert guy, so yeah — maybe he’d frowned.

Funny thing was, it turned out to be a sea-salt dark chocolate cake — barely sweet, perfectly rich — and he’d ended up finishing the whole damn slice without realizing it.

“I thought you didn’t like hearing all that,” Mrs. Jones said as she hung his coat and followed him.

Julian shot her a look. “Why do I feel like you’re mocking me right now?”

“You’re imagining things,” she replied, amused.

Julian stepped into the living room. It was empty, quiet. He glanced around, then sank into the nearest sofa.

A maid brought him a cup of tea.

He looked at the steaming mug for a moment, then left it untouched. He hadn’t had a drop of alcohol tonight—and wasn’t in the mood for tea either.

His eyes drifted toward the side room — he remembered Violet sitting there a few nights ago, helping him prepare a newborn gift for Marcus. That soft look on her face had stirred something in him.

He cleared his throat and asked, “Where is she? Upstairs?”

Mrs. Jones didn’t need him to say the name. “Ms. Violet said she’d be working late tonight. She texted me earlier.”

“That workshop keeps people overtime now?” His brows drew tight. “Did someone go pick her up?”

“She said she wasn’t sure what time she’d finish, so she told us not to bother. She’ll grab a cab home.”

Julian’s phone was already in his hand before she’d finished the sentence. He nearly called his driver — then stopped himself halfway and hung up.

He coughed lightly. “I’m stepping out for a bit.”

Mrs. Jones politely moved aside, a faint knowing smile flickering in her eyes.

He grabbed one of the car keys on the console, took the elevator down — and only realized he’d pressed the wrong floor when the doors opened to the ground lobby instead of the basement garage.

Just as he was about to hit the button again, something outside the glass doors caught his eye.

A familiar figure.

Violet.

She was getting out of the passenger side of a car — and there was a man standing next to her.