A steward led us through a side door, stripping away the gilded tension of the main auction floor. We stepped into a bright, cramped antechamber thick with the sharp tang of ozone, fine dust, and polished mineral.
This was no lavish lounge. It was a functional backstage workspace, fitted with stainless steel benches and sterile overhead lighting—a makeshift lab built for cutting and verifying the night’s most coveted stones.
The room’s elite attendees followed close behind, a murmuring tide of silk and tailored wool, their casual curiosity sharpened into avid intrigue.
Caden and Victoria were already positioned at the front, radiating unshakable arrogance. Their newly won trophies—the cobalt cluster and chameleon alexandrite—sat displayed beside them, a deliberate power play. This was t
