Chapter 30: The Ring He Kept

I didn't sleep.

The share certificate remained spread across the guest room desk until dawn.

Raven Capital.

Ashford Holdings.

Twenty-three years.

Someone had been hiding behind the company long before Damien ever became its president.

Nathaniel hadn't uncovered a recent crime.

He had uncovered a system.

A knock sounded just after seven.

"Madam?"

Rose entered carrying breakfast.

"Mr. Ashford asked whether you'll be joining him downstairs."

"Did he?"

"Yes."

"He hasn't left for the office."

That alone was unusual.

Damien never delayed work.

"Tell him I'll come."

Rose hesitated.

"There's something else."

"What is it?"

"Mr. Ashford was in the old study most of the night."

"The one beside your former studio."

My attention shifted immediately.

"Was anyone with him?"

"No."

"But he asked the house staff not to disturb him."

"Thank you, Rose."

She nodded before quietly leaving.

I locked Arthur Sloan's documents back inside Nathaniel's archive box.

The only thing I slipped into my pocket was the black king chess piece.

Nathaniel never left symbols without purpose.

If someone had returned it now...

It meant the game had entered its next move.

The dining room felt colder than usual.

Damien sat alone.

His mother was absent.

Colette wasn't serving breakfast.

Only silence occupied the enormous room.

"Sit," Damien said.

I took the chair opposite him.

Neither of us touched the food.

"You've been investigating Nathaniel," he said.

"You've been investigating me," I replied.

His expression barely changed.

"Fair enough."

"Then let's stop pretending."

"Pretending what?"

"That this marriage is our biggest problem."

For several seconds he simply looked at me.

"What did you find yesterday?"

"Enough to know Nathaniel wasn't imagining things."

"Did Victor Hayes tell you that?"

I didn't answer.

"So he did."

"You know Victor."

"Everyone in finance knows Victor Hayes."

"He's difficult to fool."

"Were you trying to fool him?"

"No."

"Someone else was."

He reached into his briefcase.

Slowly.

Carefully.

He placed a small velvet box on the table between us.

My breathing stopped.

I recognised the dark green leather immediately.

"Open it," Damien said.

I didn't move.

"You kept it," I whispered.

"Yes."

"I thought you locked it away because you hated it."

"I locked it away because I couldn't bear seeing anyone else notice it."

I frowned.

"What does that mean?"

"Open the box, Vivian."

My fingers felt strangely numb.

When I lifted the lid, the emerald ring rested exactly where I had left it eleven months ago.

Its colour caught the morning sunlight.

Green.

Deep.

Alive.

The ring I designed with my own hands.

The ring he once called cheap.

"It's been cleaned every month," Damien said quietly.

"The jeweller asked several times why I never let him polish away the tiny scratch underneath."

My heart skipped.

Only one scratch existed.

Hidden inside the band.

Nathaniel accidentally made it while helping me finish the setting.

Nobody knew about it except the three of us.

"You noticed it?"

"The day you designed it."

"Then why insult it?"

"Because Mother hated it."

"She said the newspapers would compare it to the Sinclair family emerald collection."

"She thought people would accuse us of saving money."

"So you agreed with her?"

"No."

"I protected it."

I laughed softly.

"By locking it inside a safe?"

"By making sure no one replaced it."

"She wanted you wearing a different ring."

"One bought by the board."

"Not one made by you."

I stared at him.

Nothing about this conversation felt familiar.

"You could've simply told me."

"I should have."

"Instead you humiliated me."

"Yes."

"Do you regret it?"

He didn't answer immediately.

Instead he looked down at the emerald.

"Every day."

The word sounded genuine.

Which somehow made it worse.

"Regret doesn't erase what happened."

"I know."

"Neither does returning the ring."

I closed the box.

I didn't take it.

"Keep it," I said.

"It belongs to you."

"No."

"It belongs to the woman who designed it."

"She doesn't exist anymore."

That sentence hit him harder than anger ever could.

His shoulders dropped almost imperceptibly.

"She can exist again."

"Not here."

"Then where?"

"Somewhere your permission isn't required."

Silence settled between us.

Finally Damien spoke again.

"I found something in Father's old office."

That caught my attention.

"Related to Nathaniel?"

"Maybe."

"Related to Raven Capital."

"Show me."

"Not yet."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't know whether I'm protecting you... or walking you into a trap."

"You don't get to make that decision anymore."

"Perhaps not."

"But I still have information you need."

"And I have information you need."

"Then perhaps we're finally negotiating honestly."

Before I could respond, Eleanor swept into the dining room.

"Damien," she said sharply.

"The trustees have arrived early."

Only then did she notice the velvet ring box.

Her expression hardened instantly.

"Why is that thing out again?"

"Because I took it out," Damien answered.

"Put it away."

"No."

"It's inappropriate."

"No, Mother."

"It never was."

Eleanor looked between us.

Something flickered across her face.

Not anger.

Fear.

It disappeared so quickly most people would've missed it.

I didn't.

"The trustees can wait," Damien said.

"They've already been waiting twenty-three years."

The colour drained from Eleanor's face.

"What did you say?"

"You heard me."

"Twenty-three years."

Neither of them spoke.

I suddenly realised the number matched Arthur Sloan's share certificate.

Twenty-three years.

Exactly.

This wasn't coincidence.

Damien knew something.

And Eleanor knew he knew.

She recovered almost immediately.

"Don't be ridiculous," she snapped.

"You're imagining connections that don't exist."

"Am I?"

Damien stood.

He picked up the velvet box.

Then, to my complete surprise, he crossed the room.

He stopped beside me.

Without asking permission, he placed the emerald ring into my open palm.

"Keep it this time," he said quietly.

"Because if anything happens to me... you'll need to remember whose hands actually made it."

Before I could ask what he meant, his phone rang.

He glanced at the screen.

Every trace of colour vanished from his face.

"Impossible..." he whispered.

"What happened?" I asked.

Damien slowly lowered the phone.

"Someone just emptied every Raven Capital account..."

"Thirty minutes ago."

"Using my father's authorisation code."