Chapter 6: Her Mother's Belongings

"She'll understand, eventually."

That was the sentence Claire caught as she reached the top of the stairs.

At home, Diana had become the only person Nathan opened up to late at night.

Whoever "she" referred to there was only one candidate.

What exactly did Nathan think he needed to be forgiven for?

She didn't understand. And she didn't want to.

Claire pulled her hand back from the door handle, turned, and went back downstairs.

She hadn't meant to eavesdrop. She had even less interest in walking in and interrupting whatever this was.

—

The next morning she left for work early again, sitting through the usual crawl of rush-hour traffic.

But even the blaring horns sounded better than the chaos waiting for her at home infinitely better than another morning of Oliver screaming.

When she reached the office, a middle-aged man in thin wire-rimmed glasses was stepping out of the executive office.

He wore a tailored black suit vest, a matching tie, gold cufflinks against a crisp white shirt, and a watch in the same warm gold tone. Everything about him spoke of quiet, deliberate polish.

Assistant Reed made the introduction. "Ms. Whitfield, this is Chairman Pryce."

Claire dipped her head. "Hello, Mr. Pryce."

Sebastian Pryce nodded and descended the last few steps unhurried.

"Come to me if you ever need anything. Consider this place home."

Every movement he made carried a kind of unhurried refinement.

Claire thought, oddly, that he looked less like a businessman than someone out of another era entirely a scholar dressed as an executive.

"Thank you, Mr. Pryce."

She caught him studying her a moment too long and looked back, curious. Something about him tugged at her memory.

But she was certain she'd never met anyone that important in her life.

Around the office, heads had turned discreetly behind monitors, glances exchanged. No one had ever seen the Chairman warm up to someone like that before.

Pryce looked away and strode out, Reed and the other three secretaries falling into step behind him.

Reed waved Claire along.

She grabbed her laptop and hurried to catch up.

A few floors down, Reed followed Pryce into a bright, expansive conference room while the other three secretaries peeled off into the room next door. Claire followed them and took a seat.

One of the secretaries, Alexis Kane, pointed to a set of headphones on the table. "The Chairman's meeting with the president of Lanvire Group shortly. We're on notes and summary duty."

"Thanks." Claire smiled, slipped the headphones on, and powered up her laptop.

Ten minutes in, a deep, magnetic voice came through the line.

Something about it hit her like a current her heart stuttered, and for half a second, a face and a smile she hadn't let herself think of in years flickered through her mind.

She caught herself almost as fast, shook it off, and went back to taking notes.

First day. No room for mistakes.

The meeting wrapped two hours later.

Claire grabbed her laptop and was first out the door, eyes lingering on the closed conference room behind her.

Alexis followed her out. "We should get moving. The Chairman will want the summary points fast."

Claire kept glancing back the whole walk to the elevator. No one had come out of that room by the time the doors closed.

Back at her desk, she searched for information on Lanvire Group.

There was almost nothing online. A multinational company that had surged into prominence within the last six months. Its president: an Italian man named Marco.

She didn't recognize the name and closed the tab, oddly deflated.

Plenty of men had voices like that, she told herself. Easy enough to mistake for Nathan's, or his brother Adrian's.

The day kept her too busy to dwell on it further.

Before she clocked out, Reed told her the Chairman had been impressed with how well she'd captured the technical points of the meeting, and wanted her working more closely with the engineering division going forward.

The news wiped away the whole day's exhaustion. Since her wedding, no one had ever told her she'd done something well.

With ten minutes left on the clock, she idly flipped through a magazine Reed had left on her desk.

The front page advertised an auction that evening at the Ashford Cultural and Arts Center, 7:30 PM. Curious, she browsed the listed items.

Grandma Wade had loved collecting vases and jewelry back when she was alive, and being around that world had rubbed off on Claire over the years she'd developed an eye for auctions herself.

On the third page, a rose brooch stopped her cold delicate gold wirework, a ruby set at its center.

Her breath caught. Something sharp stung behind her nose, and a dozen old feelings scraped against her chest all at once.

Rose Heart. Her mother's favorite brooch. A gift from her father.

After the accident, relatives had come through and things had started disappearing. That brooch had been one of them.

She'd been eight. All she remembered clearly was that her parents hadn't come home whole.

A small girl clutching two urns, barely able to stand, being pulled in opposite directions by relatives who couldn't stop arguing over her.

Her aunt wanted her. Her uncle wanted her too. She'd been fought over like a prize.

Six months later, the same relatives who'd fought for her had started treating her like dead weight.

She learned a phrase, growing up, that stuck with her for years: living off someone else's charity.

They hadn't wanted her. They'd wanted what was left of her parents' estate.

Staring at the brooch on the page, the old grief pressed against her chest until she could barely breathe.

It felt like being eight years old again, clumsily setting down two urns she was too small to carry.

She clocked out immediately, grabbed a shared bike to dodge traffic, and headed straight for the Cultural and Arts Center.

She'd spent six months bouncing between relatives' houses and walked away with nothing her parents had left behind.

Rose Heart was coming home with her tonight, no matter what.

It wasn't a historic antique just finely made, the rubies worth a respectable sum. She doubted anyone would fight her for it.

She rushed through registration at the venue.

The staff checked her ID, confirmed she was Mrs. Nathan Wade, wife of the Wade Group's president, waived the deposit entirely.

"Mrs. Wade, your husband already reserved online and paid the deposit ahead of time. Here's your bidding number."

Claire took the paddle number 122. If Nathan had already put down a deposit, that meant whatever she spent tonight would come straight out of his account.

She walked into the elegantly decorated hall determined to walk out with her mother's brooch.

Since she'd come straight from work without changing, the staff assumed she was some employee bidding on behalf of her boss and led her to a seat tucked in a back corner.

Half an hour later, the room had filled.

The auctioneer stepped onto the stage in an elegant gown, and the room quieted.

According to the magazine, Rose Heart was lot nine.

Claire sat rigid with anticipation, barely registering the items that came before it.

When the auctioneer finally announced "Rose Heart," she straightened, the paddle trembling slightly in her grip.

"This is no ordinary piece. Every petal you see has been shaped in layered gold wire."

"At its center sits a 5.21-carat pigeon's-blood ruby flawless color, set as the beating heart of this golden rose. A symbol, if you will, of love that refuses to break."

Claire held her breath, eyes locked on the brooch, terrified it might slip away from her a second time.

At last, the auctioneer's gaze swept the room, his tone turning formal.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the opening bid on Rose Heart is two million."

"Two point one million!"

Claire's paddle shot up without hesitation. Her palms had gone cold and clammy, her heart hammering, silently praying no one would challenge her.

In the front row, Nathan turned at the sound of her voice. Diana turned with him.

"Nathan, you didn't mention Claire was coming."

"I didn't know she would be."

His eyes settled on the brooch, and a faint smile touched his mouth. It was rare, seeing Claire want something this badly.

Beside him, Diana lifted her own paddle.

"Two point five million!”