Chapter 32

The Settlement Room at the Hotel Aethelgard was quiet, lined with mahogany and smelling of beeswax. It was the room where fortunes changed hands and buyer’s remorse went to die.

Lysander Thorne sat at the heavy desk, his hand shaking slightly as he held the gold fountain pen.

Across from him, the auction house representative, a man named Mr. Sterling, smiled patiently.

"Just the signature here, Mr. Thorne. And the biometric thumbprint to authorize the wire transfer of five million dollars."

Lysander looked at the document. Five Million Dollars.

It was everything. It was the payroll for next week. It was the vendor payments for the raw steel shipments. It was the mortgage on the Estate.

But then he looked at the black velvet box sitting on the desk. Inside was the Star of Veridia. He had won. He had beaten her.

She begged me to stop, Lysander thought, a rush of dopamine flooding his brain. She almost cried. I took the one thing she truly wanted.

He pressed his thumb against the scanner.

Beep.

TRANSFER COMPLETE. FUNDS CLEARED.

"Congratulations, sir," Mr. Sterling said, sliding the box toward him. "The Star of Veridia is yours."

Lysander picked up the box. He felt a surge of triumphs so potent it was almost sexual. He had the necklace. He had the power. Vespera would come crawling back to him now.

The heavy oak doors opened.

Lysander spun around, expecting Elara.

Instead, Vespera walked in.

She was still wearing the blood-red dress, the train swishing softly over the carpet. She looked calm. Cool. Utterly unbothered by her "loss."

Cyprian walked in behind her, looking bored, checking his watch.

"You," Lysander sneered, clutching the box to his chest. "Come to beg? It’s too late, Vespera. I won."

He stood up, walking toward her, holding the box out like a weapon.

"You wanted this, didn't you?" Lysander taunted. "I saw your face. You were desperate. Well, take a good look. It belongs to the Thorne Estate now. If you want to wear it... maybe we can discuss a settlement on that lawsuit."

Vespera stopped three feet from him. She looked at the box. Then she looked at his face.

She smiled.

It wasn't a sad smile. It was a pitying one.

"You really didn't check the provenance, did you, Lysander?" she asked softy.

"What are you talking about? It’s the Star of Veridia."

"Is it?"

Vespera reached for the small, silver clutch bag she was carrying. She undid the clasp with a sharp click.

She reached inside.

Slowly, deliberately, she pulled out a necklace.

Lysander froze.

It was the Star of Veridia.

A massive, 12-carat Kashmiri sapphire, surrounded by diamonds, suspended on a platinum chain. It was identical to the one in the box.

Except... it wasn't.

The stone in Vespera’s hand seemed to pulse with an inner light. It held the deep, velvety blue of the ocean floor. It caught the dim light of the room and fractured it into a thousand stars.

Lysander looked at the necklace in Vespera’s hand. Then he looked at the necklace in the box.

The one in the box looked... flat. Shiny, yes. But dead.

"What is this?" Lysander whispered. "A fake? You brought a fake to try and trick me?"

"No, Lysander," Vespera said, her voice gentle and terrifying. "I brought the original."

She held the sapphire up to the light.

"I bought the real Star of Veridia three days ago," Vespera revealed. "I contacted the bank that held the lien on your mother’s jewelry collection. They were happy to sell it privately to avoid the auction fees. Cyprian wrote the check Tuesday morning."

Lysander felt the blood drain from his face. "But... but the auction... the catalog..."

"We replaced it," Cyprian said, stepping forward. He looked at Lysander with amused contempt. "Vespera commissioned a high-quality replica. Cubic zirconia and colored glass. Very convincing from a distance. Under stage lights, it sparkles beautifully."

Vespera took a step closer.

"You just paid five million dollars for a prop, Lysander."

The silence in the room was deafening. Even Mr. Sterling, the auction agent, looked pale. He started tapping furiously on his computer, likely checking his liability insurance.

"No," Lysander choked out. "That’s impossible. It was authenticated!"

"By your appraiser," Vespera reminded him. "The one you fired last week to save money? The new one doesn't know a sapphire from a jolly rancher."

She dangled the real necklace in front of him.

"This is my mother’s legacy," Vespera said fiercely. "Did you really think I would let you put your hands on it? I secured the asset before the catalog was even printed. The auction was just a show."

She leaned in, her eyes burning with triumph.

"A show designed to drain your liquidity. And you fell for it. You spent every last cent you had to spite me, and you bought a piece of glass."

"You... you bitch!" Lysander screamed.

He looked down at the necklace in the box. The five-million-dollar necklace.

With a roar of pure, animalistic rage, he grabbed the "sapphire" and threw it against the marble fireplace.

CRUNCH.

A real diamond is the hardest substance on earth. It would have chipped the marble.

This stone shattered.

Shards of blue glass exploded across the hearth. The "platinum" chain snapped, revealing the copper wire underneath.

Lysander stared at the wreckage. Five million dollars. Gone. Smashed against a wall.

"Glass," he whispered. "It was glass."

"You always did have trouble seeing the real value of things," Vespera said coldly. She clasped the real Star of Veridia around her own neck. The cold stone settled against her skin, right where it belonged.

"Come on, Cyprian," she said. "The air in here smells like bankruptcy."

They turned to leave.

Lysander stood there, shaking. He was ruined. He had no cash. He had no assets. He had a pile of broken glass.

Buzz. Buzz.

His phone rang in his pocket.

He didn't want to answer it. But the ringing was relentless.

He pulled it out numbly.

It was Mr. Henderson, his primary steel supplier. The man who kept the factories running.

Lysander answered. "Hello?"

"Mr. Thorne," Henderson’s voice was icy. "I just got a notification from our bank. The payroll check you issued for the factory workers this morning? It bounced."

Lysander closed his eyes. The wire transfer to the auction house. It had cleared instantly, draining the operating account to zero.

"Insufficient funds, Mr. Thorne," Henderson said. "This is a breach of contract. I’m shutting down the production line. And I’m calling the union."

"Wait," Lysander begged, his voice cracking. "I can fix this. I have assets. I have..."

He looked at the shards of blue glass on the floor.

He had nothing.

"It’s over, Lysander," Vespera’s voice echoed in his memory.

The line went dead.

Lysander dropped the phone. He sank to his knees in the middle of the Settlement Room, surrounded by the ruin of his own making.

He hadn't just lost the war. He had financed the enemy's victory.