ADRIEN'S POV
A pink diamond pendant rests on the black wood table in my father's study.
Gold rim. Simple chain. Nothing extravagant. Nothing that would catch the eye next to the contents of Jennifer Laurent's vaults — and yet morning light catches the edge of it, and something in my chest pulls toward it like a thread I did not know was tied.
This is the diamond Father sent Beatrice to retrieve from the Volkov family. I knew about the assignment. I did not know what the diamond was. I am about to find out, because my father does not summon me to his study at eight in the morning to discuss quarterly numbers.
I keep my face neutral. The neutrality is a kind of armor I learned from him before I knew it was armor.
"You called for me, Chairman."
Chairman. I used to call this man Papa. Dad. My best buddy. My measuring stick for what a father was supposed to be.
