Damien’s expression stayed carefully neutral, but a flicker passed through his eyes—something warm, something dangerous.
“Do what you want with it.”
Margaret smirked knowingly. “Oh, I will.”
The auction wrapped up soon after, the murmurs in the gallery still buzzing over Box One’s extravagant bids. Nearly half the lots had gone to Damien, though no one had glimpsed his face behind the tinted glass.
When Oliver rose from his seat, tugging Shelby close, Emma followed quietly, her steps light but her chest heavy. She was halfway to the exit when the steady tap of a cane reached her ears.
Margaret appeared before her, the diamond-and-emerald masterpiece draped across her weathered yet dignified hands.
“This is for you,” Margaret said, her voice calm but carrying enough weight to silence
