Page 56 of A Wise Prince

I play dumb. “Oh?”

“Seems I was uninvited,” he sneers.

“Well, royal events can be overrated,” I reply, casually sipping my drink. My turn to take control. “What brings you here?”

“Just taking care of some business,” he says.

“Nice place to do business.”

He shrugs. “I go where the money is.”

“What type of business are you in?” I prod.

“Buying, selling, you know, making money.”

His comment is vague and quite frankly odd. My gut tells me to call his bluff. It’s unplanned and sort of a Hail Mary pass, but I proceed anyhow.

“Do you ever deal in rare gems?” I inquire.

He looks at me with increased curiosity. “Sometimes…”

“I have recently acquired a rather valuable gem. Any interest?” I ask.

He shrugs nonchalantly as he licks his lips. He’s interested. I feel like I’m reeling in a big fish.

“Perhaps,” he says. He reaches in his pocket and pulls out a card. “Text me a photo. We’ll talk.” And with that, he takes his drink and walks out of the bar.

I take another sip of my drink and stare at his card. It’s black and has only the number forty-four inside a wreath of leaves which is embossed in gold. The symbol seems oddly familiar, but I don’t know why. I flip it over and there is a phone number, which includes the country code. I flip it back over and examine the symbol. I don’t get it. I stick it in my pocket and toss some cash on the bar before heading back to the house.

As Nico drives me back, my phone pings with an incoming message.

Anna: Call me when you get back

I groan. Now we are going to have to come up with another plan of action. At the rate I’m gathering intel, we may find Mom’s crown in another twenty years.

We pull up to the house, and I head inside, calling Anna once I have a secured line.

“So?”

“Can’t you just snoop around the dark web and find who sold the diamond?” I huff.

“You seriously think I haven’t already tried that?” she half yells.

“Calm the fuck down. I’m just saying, this is going to take forever!”

“Well?” she prods.

I recap what happened and send her a photo of the card.

“Hold on, I’m tracing that number,” she says. “And you do know what that symbol means, right?”

“No…” I trail off as I look at it again.

“It’s a symbol of anti-monarchy,” she says flatly. “Interestingly also used by the Farringtons’ private real estate company.”

I look closer, still confused, and I hear Anna sigh.

“Do you remember what year Julius Caesar was killed?”

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