If you are looking for While I Was Bleeding Out He Lit Lanterns For Her Chapter 1 read online…
Chapter 455
Chapter 455:
June smiled and rubbed the back of her tired neck. “Alright, Sloane. I could use a break. Text me the address p>
They agreed on seven o’clock.
June looked at the heavy black biometric lockbox sitting on the corner of her desk. She decided she couldn’t wait for Crawford any longer. The psychological weight of keeping the Clements family heirloom in her possession was becoming its own kind of anxiety. She needed to know exactly what she was dealing with before she could arrange the appropriate transit insurance.
She left the office early and carried the lockbox to a highly exclusive, appointment-only antique jewelry appraiser in a discreet brownstone in Soho.
The appraiser was an elderly man with a magnifying loupe permanently fixed to his glasses. He led June into a secure, velvet-lined viewing room.
She unlocked the biometric box, lifted the lid, and pushed the dark velvet tray across to him.
The appraiser looked at the massive sapphire and diamond brooch and stopped breathing.
His hands trembled slightly as he lifted the piece with padded tweezers and placed it beneath a high-powered microscope. For twenty silent minutes, the only sound in the room was the soft hum of the halogen inspection lamps.
Finally, he sat back. He removed his glasses and looked at June with an expression of profound reverence.
“Ms. Erickson,” the appraiser said, his voice hushed. “This is a flawless, unheated Kashmir sapphire. The surrounding stones are old-mine-cut diamonds, set by a French royal jeweler in the late nineteenth century. It is a museum-grade artifact p>
𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘰𝘯
June nodded patiently. “I understand it is valuable. I simply need a concrete number for the insurance policy so I can arrange transport p>
The appraiser swallowed. “If this piece were to cross the block at Sotheby’s tomorrow, the conservative starting estimate would be — ten million dollars p>
June’s fingers twitched involuntarily.
She had known it was expensive. But the sheer magnitude of that number landed on her chest like a physical weight. Ten million dollars.
She saw it clearly now — Old Mr. Clements hadn’t simply given her a gift. He had fastened a ten-million-dollar moral and financial anchor around her neck. A suffocating declaration of ownership dressed up as generosity.
She didn’t hesitate. Sitting right there in front of the appraiser, she pulled out her phone and called Brink’s Global Services. She paid an exorbitant expedited premium on her black card and arranged a fully armored truck with two armed guards to arrive at her apartment at eight the following morning, bound directly for the Clements Hamptons estate.
She locked the brooch back inside the box and walked out carrying it like a live grenade.
The sun was setting as she moved through the cobblestone streets of Soho, casting long amber shadows between the buildings. The vintage streetlamps flickered to life one by one.
June followed the coordinates Sloane had sent and arrived at a stunning red-brick building housing the Michelin-starred restaurant. A sharply dressed maître d’ led her through the dimly lit, romantic dining room, weaving past tables of murmuring couples, toward a semi-private alcove at the back.