CHAPTER 50: WINTER HEART

The helicopter ride back to Granworth Executive Tower was short, but Liam enjoyed every second of it.

The city stretched below like a sea of jewels scattered over black velvet, streetlamps burning gold in neat lines while the glass towers shimmered faintly in the distance.

The faint vibration of the Sikorsky’s cabin was oddly soothing coupled with the sensation of the soft leather seat cradling him.

Mason and Nick sat across from him, ever alert, but even they seemed slightly more at ease after the day’s events.

Liam couldn’t help the smile that lingered on his lips. Today had been... good. More than good, actually.

It had been the most fun he’d had in a very long time.

The helicopter smoothly touched down on the rooftop helipad. Captain Harris shut down the rotors, the deep thrum fading into the night air.

Liam unbuckled and stood, offering the pilot a nod of thanks before stepping out into the cool breeze.

The rooftop elevator was waiting, its brushed metal doors sliding open with a soft hiss and they got in. The descent to the garage was quiet.

When the doors opened, they stepped out into the garage and walked to the Rolls Royce. Nick got into the driver’s seat and Mason stepped forward, holding the rear door open for Liam.

Liam smiled as the interior swallowed him in instant comfort as the door closed with a muted, satisfying thump, shutting out the rest of the world.

Without being told, Nick started the car and eased it out of the garage, and onto the streets of Beverly Hills.

The city at night was a different creature than during the day. Under the warm glow of streetlamps, the manicured avenues of Beverly Hills looked almost unreal.

Palms lined the streets like silent sentinels, their fronds swaying gently in the evening breeze.

Here and there, a sleek supercar purred past, its polished body catching flashes of light as it slid into the distance.

It had been only a few days since Liam had moved into Bellemere Mansion, but he was still adjusting to the reality of living in the Platinum Triangle.

As the Ghost glided silently along the smooth streets, Liam caught glimpses of stately gates, hedges trimmed with precision, and sprawling homes hidden behind them.

Each property seemed to have its own gravitational pull. They were the kind of estates you couldn’t just walk past without wondering who lived there.

He smiled faintly and shook his head, leaning back into the plush seat. No point getting lost in those thoughts tonight. He should just enjoy the ride.

The ride didn’t take long. The Ghost turned onto his street and the mansion’s gates came into view. As they approached, the gates swung open smoothly.

The long driveway stretched ahead, flanked by immaculate lawns and soft uplighting that cast the trees in golden relief. The Ghost rolled to a gentle stop before the front steps.

Mason stepped out first, coming around to open Liam’s door. Liam thanked him as he got out, the night air cool against his skin. Mason moved ahead to open the front door for him while the Nick guided the Rolls toward the garage.

Stepping through the front door, into the mansion, Liam felt it instantly — that deep, subtle calm that only came from stepping into his own home after a long day.

He turned and he saw that Evelyn was already there, with her posture impeccable.

"Welcome home, sir," she said warmly. "Would you like dinner?"

"I will," Liam replied with a nod. "But I’ll have my bath first."

"Of course," she said with a faint smile, stepping aside.

Upstairs, Liam made his way to the master suite. He walked into his bedroom and without lingering, he headed straight for the bathroom.

The hot water was quick to wash away the salt and a refreshing feeling washed over him. When he stepped out, dressed in loose, comfortable clothes, he felt refreshed.

He walked to the bed and sat down, sinking into it. With the smile not leaving his face, he summoned the Winter’s Heart from his inventory.

In an instant, the weight settled into his hands as a large white egg mounted on an ornate platinum stand appeared in his hand.

"Wow... It’s even more beautiful in person," he muttered in slight shock.

He had chosen not to bring it out on the yacht. Not because it wasn’t impressive, but because after seeing their reactions to the Mia, he didn’t see the need.

The Fabergé egg would have turned the day into something else entirely and he wasn’t aiming to look like he was showing off.

But now that he was alone in his room, there was no reason to hold back.

Liam examined the exterior of Winter Heart and he was left feeling very speechless.

The exterior was breathtaking. A solid platinum shell, hand-chased with frost-like patterns so intricate they seemed almost alive, like real ice crystals spreading across glass.

Those patterns were overlaid with translucent white guilloché enamel, giving them depth — as if you could look straight into the heart of frozen glass.

Along the frost edges, the 2,400 flawless white diamonds sparkled like snow under sunlight, each one perfectly set to catch the light in a hundred tiny bursts.

At the crown and base sat two pear-shaped blue diamonds, each an exact twin of the other in hue, cut, and clarity — a perfect match, both weighing fifteen carats.

Between them, at the crown’s center, was a platinum snowflake motif, and at its heart, a three-carat ruby of the deepest red.

Liam smiled and pressed the ruby.

With a soft click, the platinum shell parted in four symmetrical petals, unfolding like a blooming ice flower.

Inside, the inner surface was lined with ultra-thin rock crystal, engraved with micro-etched snowflake designs invisible to the naked eye — but Liam’s enhanced vision caught them instantly, every line as sharp as if it had been cut moments ago.

At the center rose a miniature mechanical cityscape of Saint Petersburg in winter. Platinum rooftops were dusted with white enamel "snow," and a river of blue sapphires ran through it, dotted with mother-of-pearl ice sheets — the Neva River brought to life in gemstones.

In the city’s heart stood a platinum tree, its branches tipped with diamonds, and from its highest bough hung a flawless seventeen-carat blue diamond — the Winter Star.

Liam remembered that the cityscape has a music-box mechanism and his smile widened as he turned the discreet platinum key at the base, to activate the mechanism.

Immediately, a melody—Nocturne of the Winter Star— began to play. It’s a custom waltz, composed exclusively for this piece by Fabergé’s modern master craftsmen.

As the music swelled, the platinum tree began to rotate slowly, its branches catching the light in a shifting dance. The effect was hypnotic — a perfect blend of craftsmanship, artistry, and engineering.

Seeing this, he felt that it confirmed his thought that the system’s $40 million valuation was absurdly low. Between the stones, the artistry, and the sheer uniqueness, this was worth far more.

I wonder what criterias the system used for its evaluation. It should really be worth more than $40m.

Liam listened to the note, enjoying it and when the last notes faded, he turned the key again but this time, in a precise sequence only he knew. There was a faint click, and the tree stopped turning.

He carefully lifted the miniature cityscape from its mount. Beneath it, nestled in a hidden compartment, was a small, unmarked key.

The key to the safe deposit box.

He held it between his fingers and immediately—just as he had hoped—a line of information flowed into his head.

Rothschild Private Vault, Geneva, Switzerland