The Gembound

Chapter 1: The Gift

Alister pov

When my phone starts ringing, I click my tongue and turn it off upon seeing who the caller is.

Reluctantly, I make my way through the crowd, walking away from the crime scene, the yellow tape, police cars, the serious faces of the investigators and sounds of the sirens. It all fades into the distance, replaced by the usual chatter of everyday life. I take a deep breath, feeling the cool breeze fill my lungs, and savor the sweet scent of freshly brewed coffee wafting from a nearby café.

It's a reminder that life goes on, even in the face of tragedy.

My phone rings again, and I don't pick up this time, trying not to let it sour my mood more than it already is after seeing the body.

I finally reach the restaurant, which boasts a classic, timeless look, evoking a sense of tradition and warmth. Complete with honey-colored stone, a pitched roof including multipaned windows with leaded glass and ornate metalwork.

After straightening my jacket and wiping my glasses clean, I approach the fine restaurant's entrance. But I stop when I notice a familiar face standing outside it, near the outdoor seating area. Her blue eyes staring inside nervously as she fidgeted with her hands.

No...why is she here!? This is bad...how long has she been standing there? Who is she looking at? Don't tell me...

I wait as I watch her try to make up her mind whether to go in or not. A while later, she turns around, blond ponytail swaying with every movement as she starts to walk away. Practically running in heels as she tightly clutches her blue handbag that of course, matches with the rest of her attire.

I walk up to the glass doors, peeking inside to see what she was looking at.

Her friends are seated in a comfortable-looking booth, surrounded, fully engaged in conversation and laughter. The booth is cluttered with coffee cups, scattered papers, and a few stray textbooks, evidence of their study session.

As I enter, the soft lighting dances across the rustic wooden floors, casting a glow on the plush armchairs and crisp white tablecloths. The scent of delectable cuisines wafted through the air, enticing me.

After scanning the area, My eyes land on the lone woman in baggy clothes, sitting at a table in the far corner, stuffing her face with spaghetti.

"Alister!"

I turn to see the friend group as they beckon me over to their booth. Gritting my teeth, I walk over to them.

I need to get them out.

"What brings you here?" Sophia asked, surprise flashing across her dark eyes, probably because this is the first time she's seen out of campus.

"The desserts here are exceptional," I reply. Then, leaning in, as if I'm about to tell a secret, I ask "by the way, I saw Austin outside. I guess she left early?"

The table falls silent, all four of them exchanging disbelieving glances. "What? Clara was here?" one of them asks.

I straighten up "Oh, I just saw her staring at you from outside."

The group's demeanor shifts, their concern and confusion palpable "Is she avoiding us?" One of them with braids, Agnes, asks Sophia, who looks upset now.

"Is it because of the birthday party tonight? She did say she'll call to invite us after convincing her dad." Another one, retorts, further adding to Sophia's stress.

"Why does she need permission, though? Isn't it her party? Can't she invite anyone she wants?" I ask innocently, fanning the flames.

"Well...it's probably complicated as it's also a formal event." Someone says reasonably.

"Still, aren't you best friends?" I ask Sophia who finally gets up.

"Excuse me" she mutters as she picks up her bag, dials something on her phone and leaves the restaurant. Her friends, concerned, follow after her. I sigh in relief, finally alone with no one who knows me around.

I make my way towards the woman, stray curls escaping the messy bun atop her head, framing her face in a way that makes her look both disheveled and highlights the lines on her face.

"I hope you payed for that." I settle on the seat across her. Brown eyes follow my every move.

Her gaze sharpens, still chewing, as if deciding whether to roll her eyes or let the comment slide. When she tries to respond, her words come out garbled, unintelligible.

"Lily, don't talk with your mouth full," I say, ignoring the irritation that flickers across her face. "Surprising how working for a wealthy family, surrounded by class and discipline, you still haven't learned any manners."

The clatter of her fork hitting the plate is sharp and intentional. She swallows, lips pressing into a thin line before she speaks.

"When you spend time in a lion's den, trying to dig into every corner, learning etiquette should be the least of your worries."

"So, where is it? Do you even have it?"

She rolls her eyes as she takes out her phone "Always with the skepticism. I should charge you extra for that." She types something in her phone and holds it out for me to see.

The image she shows me isn't just a lucky find-it's something someone didn't want seen.

A photograph of a torn page from, what looks like, an old accounting ledger. Hidden beneath a false bottom of a desk drawer. The paper is creased, the ink slightly faded, but the numbers and names are still visible. Transactions that shouldn't exist. Payments made to individuals with no official ties to the family business. Repeated monthly sums marked under vague descriptions-"consultation," "expansion fees," "miscellaneous services."

It's careful wording, just ambiguous enough to avoid direct implication, but the intent is clear.

Lily watches my reaction, a slow smirk creeping onto her lips. "Still think I don't have it?" she murmurs, flipping the phone back toward herself. "Now, let's talk payment."

"You'll get what I promised," I say, leaning back and crossing my arms "No more, no less."

She scoffs, leaning forward, her fingers tapping lightly against the table. "See, that's where we disagree, kiddo. Digging through that studyroom isn't easy. I have to be careful-real careful. Do you know how hard it is to put everything back exactly the way it was? To make sure the man doesn't suspect a damn thing? While you just sit here listening to everything" She points her fork at me as she continues "That kind of work deserves a bonus."

I don't react. She's testing me, seeing how much she can squeeze out before I shut her down. The problem with her is that she does her tasks really well. And she knows it.

"I'm not stupid, Lily. You knew what you were getting into. If I start handing out bonuses every time you decide something was 'harder than expected,' I might as well just hand you my entire wallet."

She grins. "Now you're getting it."

My jaw tightens, but I don't let the irritation show. "Five percent extra. That's it."

Lily studies me, her brown eyes flicking over my face, searching for any sign of hesitation. Finding none, she lets out a dramatic sigh and leans back in her seat, stretching her arms. "Fine." She picks up her fork again, twirling a piece onto it. "Pleasure doing business with you,"

"I'll have your payment by tomorrow," I say as my eyes are drawn to the TV fixed on the wall near the counter, showing some breaking news report. The anchorwoman has a serious expression and the grim tone of her voice.

"Businessman Richard Calloway faces financial ruin as embezzlement and fraud allegations surface. Sources confirm multiple shell companies used to launder millions, with recent evidence linking him to tax evasion and offshore accounts."

A photo of the man flashes on the screen-mid-fifties, graying hair, expensive suit, the kind of arrogant smile only men with too much power and too few consequences ever wear. Not anymore.

Lily follows my gaze and lets out a low whistle. "Damn. They finally got him, huh?" She leans back in her seat, crossing her arms. "You played a part in that too, didn't you?"

I don't answer right away, just watch as the footage cuts to Calloway shoving past reporters, his once-pristine image unraveling in real time. The man looks pale, furious, completely unprepared for the world turning against him.

I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket and take it out. A message from him. Saying he'll be here in 10 minutes.

I click my tongue and with one hand, I type a brief response before slipping the phone back into my pocket.

Lily raises an eyebrow. "Somewhere you need to be?"

"No," I sigh "Just have to meet an irritating classmate for something."

She chuckles, taking a sip of her drink. "Good to see you finally hang out with a friend."

I narrow my eyes "He is not my friend. He's the human equivalent of a headache."

"Still, I never hear you talk about anything else. Shouldn't you university students be focused on making new friends?" She tilts her head, eyes glinting with amusement.

"Sure, If you have nothing important to do." I answer, standing up and adjusting my jacket.

"Well, why are you meeting him anyway? Just tell him no."

I rub the back of my neck. "He wants my opinion on buying an antique gift for his grandmother."

That earns a laugh."All you had to say was 'antiques', and I would have understood."

I roll my eyes, already regretting bringing it up. "And also probably help get a gift for Austin's party tonight."

She hums thoughtfully "If you haven't bought anything for her yet, she's really into jewelry these days. Wouldn't stop talking about it to her friends on the phone. A little insider's tip."

I shake my head "Focus on important matters instead of useless conversations."

She scoffs. "It's called multitasking. You should try it sometime." She hesitates, before continuing "You, know, I'll say this once again. I feel like how strictly the kids are treated in that household is also something worth-"

"Please" I stop her "Just stick to the goal." I say as I make my way towards the door.

The bell chimes as I step out into the cool air, which I'm so thankful for, seeing as the weather these days has been nothing but humid, the conversation lingering in my mind.

Clara Austin. Even just thinking about her name is enough to put me in a foul mood.

She's the spoiled, self-absorbed daughter of the Austin family. She walks around like she's better than everyone else. Perfect posture, carefully curated smiles, just the right amount of charm to make people think she's kind.

She's fake. The way she carries herself, the way she subtly forces people to like her. She never outright demands admiration; she nudges people toward it. A well-placed laugh here, a falsely modest comment there, a strategic display of vulnerability when necessary. It works.

And to make things worse, she somehow managed to score higher than me on the midterms.

I studied for weeks. Hours of preparation, careful notes, revising every possible question. I earned my grades. Earned them through effort, through actual hard work. And yet, when the results came out, there she was-just above me.

It's infuriating.

Did she cheat? Did she bribe someone? Or is it just another case of the world handing her things on a silver platter?

I exhale sharply, shoving my hands into my pockets. It doesn't matter. None of it matters.

Because soon, the life she clings to will come crashing down like a house of cards. And I'm going to enjoy every second of it.

◇.........................🗡.........................◇

This shop, 'Curios and Relics,' seems fascinating. I've never payed much attention to it as the store's exterior is unassuming, with faded letters and a worn wooden sign. But the windows are filled with an assortment of intriguing items. A vintage typewriter, a collection of old cameras, and a beautiful music box on display. An item in the window catches my eye - an antique pocket watch with a delicate golden chain attached to it.

"Sorry I'm late!"

I turn to see Zach walk up to me. He's your typical tall and muscular, with the kind of athletic build that makes it obvious he spends more time in the gym than behind a desk. Something he's proud to show off seeing as all he ever wears are shirts that seem a size too small. And, of course, he's smiling-his usual wide, easy grin.

I barely manage to suppress a sigh. Of course, he's late.

I don't want to be here with him, but I was interested in checking out this store. We are not friends. We barely talk in class and I do my best to avoid interacting with people like him.

Zach doesn't seem to notice, or care, that I'm not exactly thrilled to see him. "Man, this place is cool. Didn't think you'd be into this kind of stuff." he says, peering into the window beside me with his green eyes "So, where do we start?"

"Going in." I walk over to it, push open the creaky door and step into the shop, my eyes adjusting to the dim light within. The air is thick with the scent of old books and dust, and the sound of classical music plays softly in the background. I wander through the rows of shelves and display cases, taking in the vast array of antiques and collectibles on display.

"So, what do you recommend?" He asks.

I glance around, scanning the items. "That...depends. Your grandmother, does she have any particular interest in antiques, or are you just hoping she'll like something old and vintage?"

Zach shrugs. "She likes stuff with history, I think. Something with a story behind it."

As I browse, my fingers trail over the taxidermied squirrel, and I pause to examine a detailed marble decoration. I feel like a kid in a candy store, eager to explore every nook and cranny. I could spend hours in a place like this.

"What about this?" Zach calls out pointing to a locket. He turns with a smile to the breaded shop owner who had been watching us the whole time "Can you take it out."

The man hums in approval and carefully retrieves it, setting it down on a velvet cloth. Up close, the locket is even more striking. It's small, oval-shaped, made of aged silver with floral engravings. A faint seam runs along its side, hinting that it opens.

The man wipes his hands on a cloth before answering. "This came in with a batch of estate items a few weeks ago. Belonged to a woman who immigrated here in the early 1800s. She carried it everywhere, they say. It was found tucked inside an old sewing box with her letters."

I glance at Zach. "Your grandmother wanted something with history. This has history."

My eyes land on a small wooden box nearby, its lid left opened. Leaving the shopkeeper to finish Zach's purchase, I step closer, drawn by the craftsmanship. The walnut wood is rich and smooth, its surface adorned with intricate carvings-elegant patterns that seem almost too precise to be done by hand. Picking it up, feeling the smooth wood beneath my fingers, I examine it more closely.

Exquisite. The level of detail, the precision...this is amazing.

I peer inside. Nestled within the black velvet-lined interior are two small white gemstones. They catch the dim shop light in a way that makes them seem to glow silver. Like moonlight captured in solid form, cool and ethereal, as if it doesn't quite belong to this world.

But it's not just their beauty that unsettles me. It's the familiarity.

why does it suddenly remind me of her...The white hair and kind eyes that looked at me as she smiled.

Behind me, the shopkeeper approaches, his voice light but knowing. "Ah. That's quite the find."

I glance up "These stones. Where did they come from?"

The man wipes grins "From a collector, months ago. He never said much about them-only that they were precious. That they carried a kind of... truth."

A convenient word. Vague enough to mean nothing, yet suggestive enough to make people want it to mean something.

"It's said to be imbued with mystical properties." He adds on.

"Mystical properties?" I repeat.

The shopkeeper leans in, "Yes, it's said that these gems have the power to grant wishes to those who possess it. But be warned, the wishes come with a steep price."

I raise an eyebrow. Does he think I'm a child? Do I look like someone who would believe in magic?

"Looks nice." Zach appears behind me, his present already wrapped up.

"I'll take this. And that pocket watch." I say to the shop owner, my mind made up.

"Now let's go get Clara's gift. Unless you've already bought it?" He asks as the owner leads us to the counter.

I don't want to go through that hassle. I suppose I'll just give her one of the gemstones. She can make whatever jewelery she wants with it.

"Yes, I have."