"What the hell are you talking about?" Mrs. Smith asks nervously. She shakes her finger at Avery and shifts her weight back and forth. "You shouldn't talk about things you know nothing about."

"D.O. uses a special inlay process to put the stones in the metal base," Avery says. "It's a complicated process, and only a master can do it—it makes it almost impossible to make copies of D.O. original pieces. A craftsman has to polish each raw stone by hand for over ninety minutes. You can't see it with the naked eye, but there's a slight bit of space between the stone and the ring base here. Besides, the angles on this stone are imperfect. That's why I think the ring has been tampered with."

"That's rubbish," Mrs. Smith says, her face looking terribly pale.

"You can always ask for a second opinion," Avery says with a casual shrug. "As for the press, you can do whatever you want, but I don't think things will end well for you."

"Are you accusing me of tampering with my own ring?" Mrs. Smith asks, clutching her chest in outrage. "I can't believe your nerve! You'll be hearing from me, mark my words."

She slings her Gucci bag over her arm and marches out of the room, muttering curses at Avery under her breath. Avery lets out a small sigh of relief and returns the magnifying glass. She feels Crystal's eyes boring into her back, and she turns and raises her eyebrows at Crystal.

"Fluke luck," Crystal says, turning on her heel and strutting away.

The other employees huddled in a small circle and started whispering amongst themselves. Avery can see them casting secret looks at her, but she has no interest in eavesdropping on them. It's only the first day, but she's already tired of their drama. Emily taps her on the arm and looks meaningfully toward her office, and Avery follows her into the small room.

"Could you really tell all that from just one look with the magnifying glass?" Emily asks, after shutting the door.

Avery nods and answers, "I used to dabble in jewels."

"That's quite impressive," Emily says. "I didn't learn how to do any of that until I was much older—then my dad taught me."

"Your dad?" Avery asks curiously.

"Yes, he's one of the old craftsmen," Emily says. "He's the reason I chose to work in jewelry. My family has a long history with D.O. My dad used to work with Miss Johnson; back in the day, he did a lot of work for famous designers like her. Though I bet there's at least one designer he worked for that even you haven't heard of. Do you know Olivia Meyers?"

Avery can hardly believe her ears and asks, "You mean your dad worked for and knew them all?"

"Yes, of course," Emily says. "For a while, he was involved in almost every major project they did."

"This may sound strange, but could I meet your father?" Avery asks.

She doesn't want to say it out loud, but she's hoping Emily's father can help explain some of the things she found in her mother's papers. She's still so confused by the drawing of the ring her mother made. Her mother wrote the Howel name on the band of the ring, and Avery wants to know why.

"You want to see my dad?" Emily asks with obvious confusion.

"Yes, I need to," Avery says simply. "Olivia Peters was my mother."

"No wonder you know so much about jewelry," Emily says, eyes going wide.

"It's nothing really," Avery says, feeling herself blush at the compliment.

"If you want to meet him, I can take you any time," Emily says. "We could go after work today."

"I'm afraid I already have plans tonight," Avery says.

Sophie knocks on Emily's door, but her face is mysterious, and she refuses to answer any questions about how she's going to deal with Mrs. Smith. After Emily explains the situation, Sophie nods once and disappears to her private office. Avery feels a knot form in her stomach as the morning turns to afternoon—she's terrified of the meeting with Andrew.

Andrew stands in front of his dressing room mirror, wearing an unbuttoned white shirt. He presses his hand against his chest and feels his heart hammer wildly as if it's trying to break through the skin. He frowns and looks at himself, flexing his tanned abs and pushing his hair from one side to the other.

"Mr. Clifford, do you want to bring a bigger team of guards with you?" asks the head bodyguard.

Andrew shakes his head and says, "No, just give me the device."

The bodyguard hands him a thick white waistcoat. Andrew looks at it carefully—from a distance, it doesn't seem too obvious. The wires have been carefully hidden, at least. He wraps it around his waist, noticing the extra weight immediately. It's surprisingly heavy.

"Heard anything from Jackson?" Andrew asks.

"He recently attacked one of Evan Howel's cars—supposedly Avery and her sister were inside at the time," the guard says. "Evan blew up one of his mansions as retribution. I think they're heading toward an all-out war."

Andrew shakes his head slowly. Jackson and Evan are both famous for their hot tempers, Andrew thinks. Everyone says they're such great businessmen, but they can't ever keep cool heads. If they want to destroy each other, that's fine. I just have to rise above it all and claim Avery as my prize.

"Sir, somehow the Meyer and Olivers think that you're involved in it all," the guard says. "They think you personally decided to take Charles Meyer's heart."

Andrew curses under his breath and pauses in the middle of buttoning his shirt over the waistcoat. He can't think of anyone who would do anything like that. Well, anyone besides my grandfather, he thinks. The old man is ruthless, and I'm his only heir. He sighs and finishes buttoning the shirt over the waistcoat. If he looks closely, he can see the outline, but the shirt hides it well.

Two hours later, Andrew walks into the lobby of the Diary Hotel, flanked by two bodyguards. He looks around the lobby and sees that the hotel staff has formed two lines to greet him politely. The doorman bows deeply and smiles.

"What an honor, first we get to welcome Mr. and Mrs. Howel and now Mr. Clifford pays us a visit," the doorman says.

"Evan is already here?" Andrew asks.

The doorman looks down at his shoes as he answers, "Yes sir, I think he's waiting over by the private elevators."

Andrew marches over to the private elevators and sees a small group of bodyguards in black uniforms. The guards stand in a circle with Evan and Avery in the middle. As soon as he sees Avery, his heart pounds dangerously in his chest. She's dressed formally and professionally in a black dress and blazer, but the dark color makes her fair skin look even lovelier.

"Evan," Andrew says casually, putting his hands in his pockets.

Evan glares icily at him and protectively steps in front of Avery. The bodyguards move in sync, closing in around Evan and Avery. Andrew feels his heart sink a little as soon as he loses sight of Avery.

"Well, that's quite unfriendly," Andrew says, smiling coldly. "It doesn't seem the best way to begin a negotiation with me."

"Who are you to talk about friendliness to me?" Evan snaps. "I'm here to talk business, not make friends."

Andrew looks at the private elevator. The entire elevator shaft is walled in glass, an elevator itself looks like a glass box with a metal frame. Andrew can see it descending the shaft to get them, and he quickly returns his attention to Evan, but Evan is also staring at the elevator.

The doors slide open, and Evan and his bodyguards step forward in unison. The guards slowly part and Evan tries to step into the elevator. Andrew raises his arm and puts his flat palm against Evan's chest, stopping him. Evan tries to push past, but Andrew keeps his arm firm. Evan's bodyguards shift nervously, clearly wondering if they should stop Andrew.

Andrew looks over Evan's shoulder at Avery and meets her eyes. She presses her lips into a thin line and raises her eyes toward the ceiling in a look of frustration. Andrew smirks at her, but she looks away.

Finally, Evan seems impatient. He raises a hand and grabs Andrew by the collar of his shirt. Andrew can feel the stiff fabric digging into his neck, but he doesn't move at all.

"Evan!" Avery shouts with disapproval. "We're here to talk, not fight!"

Suddenly there's a loud crash and a horrible grating and shattering noise. Andrew doesn't even flinch—he knew it was coming. Evan's face tenses as he looks around for the source of the noise, but Avery realizes what's happened first.

"Oh my god, the elevator fell," she screams.

Evan immediately takes his hand off Andrew's collar and steps back to protect Avery, blocking her from Andrew's view. Andrew sighs and glances over his shoulder to look at the damage. The elevator is nothing but a pile of twisted metal and broken glass.

"How did you know that would happen?" Evan asks suspiciously.

"Lucky guess," Andrew says, trying to keep the nervousness out of his voice.

He's just as shaken as Evan and Avery, but he wants to seem calm and in control. He looks at the wrecked elevator again and clicks his tongue against his teeth.

"I'm risking my life just by meeting with you tonight," he says. "Don't pretend you don't know who's behind this, Evan. Really, I thought you'd be more careful now that you've started a war."