Lucas’s expression tightened almost imperceptibly.

His mother’s sharp eyes missed nothing.

He shifted his weight, the question clearly unsettling him. “It’s not what you think. She’s just a friend in a difficult situation. I need your advice.”

Eleanor Grant knew her son too well. She saw the subtle tension in his posture, the slight evasion in his eyes. Lucas, usually so detached and composed around women, was clearly affected.

A soft laugh escaped her. She reached out and patted his hand gently. “You’re unusually concerned. And tense.”

She turned and addressed a waiting maid with clear authority. “Fetch the Rosalia Pink Diamond necklace. Immediately.”

The maid returned swiftly, holding an elegant box. Under the soft chandelier light, the magnificent pink diamond glowed with an inner fire.

Eleanor took the box herself and offered it to Lucas. “Here. For your… friend.”

His fingers closed around the velvet case. He avoided her probing gaze.

“When will you introduce this young woman to me, Lucas?” Eleanor’s voice was laced with curiosity and a hint of expectation.

He gripped the box tighter, deftly sidestepping her question. “It’s late, Mother. You should rest.”

Without another word, he turned and strode quickly out of Grant Manor.

Eleanor watched from the doorway as her son disappeared into the night. She shook her head slowly, a mixture of amusement and resignation in her eyes, yet her affection for him was plain. Lucas remained as reserved and distant as ever.

The black car was swallowed by the darkness.

Inside the quiet sanctuary of the back seat, Lucas lifted the lid of the small box. The Rosalia Pink Diamond shimmered, its radiant hue captivating.

His voice was crisp as he addressed his assistant in the front. “Deliver this to the studio first thing tomorrow.”

“Understood, Mr. Grant.”

The night was deep and ink-black, but the lights of Isabella’s studio burned brightly against the darkness.

In her spacious office, Isabella sat alone. The desk lamp cast her sharp silhouette against the wall.

Her desk was a chaotic landscape of design drafts. Each one represented hours of relentless work and meticulous attention to detail.

Prominent among them was a sketch for an exquisite necklace. It was the centerpiece of her “Decade’s Vow” collection. The most crucial piece.

But the absence of the Rosalia Pink Diamond created a devastating void. She couldn't rely on that single stone. She needed another path.

Holding the design draft, a fierce determination ignited in Isabella’s eyes. If the Rosalia was beyond reach, she would find another way. She would create her own solution.

Isabella had not slept. Her eyes were red and sore, her face pale with fatigue, yet her gaze remained intensely focused. The rich scent of coffee filled the air. In the stillness, the only sound was the gentle rustling of paper.