“This is the only item left in this chamber,” she says. “The remainder of Mr. Blackthorn’s collection was cleared out months ago.” She carefully lifts an elegant red velvet box. “Here, Miss Blackthorn. Please be very careful. It’s delicate.”
The smirk melts off her face.
Cleo looks nervous as she accepts the gift, chewing on her bottom lip. Although she’s dressed like some kind of dark bohemian fairy, she suddenly looks younger, almost back to that kid I remember.
I have a biting urge to tell her it’ll be okay. An old instinct that’s out of place here.
For now, I know better. I keep my yap shut.
She’s a grown woman and it’s her inheritance. Let her deal with it so we can all hopefully walk out of here and move the fuck on.
Still biting that lower lip, she slowly opens the lid.
I could roll my eyes at how dramatic she’s being.
The feeling fades a second later, once I see what’s inside.
An oval object, glinting in the light, almost too magnificent to be real. It’s an orb crusted with jewels that have to be worth many multiples of my lifetime salary.
Jeweled blue and white stripes with gold accents. Not a perfect sphere, more like… an egg?
Yeah.
It’s nestled against the velvet interior like it was laid by a real-life golden goose and gently put away.
Cleo looks up, startled. Her eyes beg Wilkes for answers.
“A treasure from a world-class Russian jeweler, well over a hundred years old. Technically, an understudy of the famous name everyone knows, but I’m confident no one alive today could replicate this beauty.” Miss Wilkes’ soft voice fills the small room. “One of several jeweled eggs made for King Constantine I of Greece as an anniversary present from the Russian Tsar. Each one is—”
“Absolutely priceless,” Cleo’s voice breaks. Her hands tremble, and she looks like she wants to sit down. “Holy hell. I… I had no clue he had anything like this…”
“No one knew. Mr. Blackthorn went to great lengths to be discreet about its existence. I never knew myself until the very end when I read the will.” Wilkes smiles. “He acquired it quite some time ago.”
I glance between them, my teeth grinding together.
“So, what then? He’s been sitting on someone’s old crown jewels?”
“You’ve never heard of the House of Fabergé? It’s legendary.” Cleo huffs quickly, throwing me a purple-hued glance out of the corner of her eyes like she can’t believe I’m not mesmerized by the magic object.
Sorry, Princess.
Finger painting with Kit was the extent of my art education.
“She’s right. They were world-renowned for designing these elaborate, jewel-crusted eggs for Russian royals,” Wilkes cuts in. “This particular egg has been lost for a long time. Mr. Blackthorn discovered it and ascertained its authenticity.”
“I can’t believe it,” Cleo whispers, shaking her head. “But how did he find it in the first place? Why did he keep it a secret? He could’ve put this in a museum.”
“I know you have questions. They’re all explained in a letter from Mr. Blackthorn himself. He asked that I deliver it to you once you’d seen the Hera Egg for yourself. Now that we’ve done that, you’re welcome to read it.”
Slowly, Cleo closes the lid and nods. “Okay. I’m terrified I’ll break this just by breathing.”
“It’s not as fragile as it looks. Please, allow me.” The lawyer retrieves the box and places it back in the drawer. “You’re welcome to leave it in the vault for now if you need a moment to collect yourself. This house, and the vault, are open for your personal use until you decide how you’d like to proceed.”
“Wow. I mean—” Cleo glances at Kit, then back at the egg. “Yes. Please. Thank you. I don’t think I’ll know for a while. I’ll have to do some research.”
“Certainly. Your grandfather knew you might not come to a rapid decision. That’s why he left these provisions in place for you.” Her eyes flick to me.
Fuck, what provisions?
