Chapter 23 Welcome Home
Selena's POV
I reached out and grasped that well-defined hand with its light calluses.
"Welcome home, brother."
Ethan's smile deepened. In his hawk-like eyes, the sharpness faded, leaving only warmth.
He let go of my hand and kicked the Mercedes beside him. The car body made a dull thud.
"Does trash like this even deserve to touch you?"
Ethan's tone was full of contempt, as if he were talking about a fly.
I looked at him, feeling something strange inside.
At the Kateson house, if I got into trouble or was bullied by others, they would only think I was an embarrassment.
But Ethan, this biological brother I was meeting for the first time, his first reaction was to stand by my side without hesitation and protect me in the most direct, most forceful way.
Is this what family is?
"Let's go," Ethan put his arm around my shoulder and led me toward his SUV that looked like an armored vehicle. "Mom, Dad, and Uncle Jonathan all miss you. I brought back some stuff from overseas - you should like them."
"What about those two dogs of yours..." I glanced back at the Rottweilers still barking madly at the car door.
"Don't worry, they don't bite people," Ethan said casually. "They only bite trash."
Myrdal must have heard from inside the car - I could see his face stiffen.
Just then, my phone rang.
It was David.
"Miss, there's an emergency at the 'Astraea' studio. An old client from Saudi Arabia, Prince Al-Saud, suddenly needs a jewelry set for his sister's wedding in three days. He specifically requested that you design it personally. The budget... has no limit."
I frowned.
Prince Al-Saud was one of my major clients, known for his picky taste and generous spending.
His orders were always urgent, but this was too rushed even for him.
"Got it, I'll head over right away."
After hanging up, I looked at Ethan. "Bro, I need to go downtown. There's an urgent matter at the studio."
"Get in," Ethan said without hesitation, opening the passenger door directly. "I'll take you."
His modified SUV had an interior that didn't quite match his rugged appearance - soft leather seats, a top-tier sound system, and even a small car refrigerator.
"Aren't you supposed to be handling the family's core business overseas? Why did you suddenly come back?" I asked curiously while fastening my seatbelt.
"Core business?" Ethan started the car, the engine letting out a low rumble.
"That boring stuff? I can just have my people handle it. I heard the family found our sister, so of course I had to come back and check her out. Plus, if I didn't come back soon, the Hart family's only princess would keep getting bullied by those blind mutts out there."
He glanced at me and grinned.
Warmth filled my heart, and I said nothing more.
The car sped all the way to downtown and stopped in front of an ordinary-looking office building.
The Astraea Studio wasn't on any luxury shopping street. Instead, it was hidden on the top floor of this building. There was no sign, no display window - only a private elevator that required a special key to activate.
This was my absolute domain that I kept for myself.
"Need me to come up with you?" Ethan asked.
"No need, bro. You can head back. I might be here for a while."
"Alright. I'll have someone pick you up tonight." He waved at me, hit the gas, and the black SUV merged into traffic.
I walked into the elevator and entered the password.
The elevator rose smoothly. When the doors opened, it was another world.
The entire top floor had been opened up, with huge floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city skyline.
The interior was minimalist black, white, and gray, with a few modern paintings I liked hanging on the walls.
A manager in a suit and white gloves immediately came forward.
"Miss Astraea, you're here." He bowed respectfully.
"Prince Al-Saud's requirements have been sent to your email. Also... there's another distinguished guest here today."
"Who?"
"Mr. Sterling."
My steps paused.
Royce?
What was he doing here?
I followed the manager's gaze and saw a man standing with his back to me in front of a row of display cases.
He wore a well-tailored dark gray suit, his figure upright. Just his back alone radiated an unapproachable sense of pressure.
He seemed to be looking at a loose diamond on a velvet cushion.
"What does he want?" I asked the manager in a low voice.
"Mr. Sterling wants to commission a pair of cufflinks, but he's not satisfied with any of our existing designs." The manager's tone was somewhat troubled. "He said he wants something... with soul."
With soul?
I almost laughed out loud.
The demands of these wealthy heirs were sometimes truly bizarre.
I ignored him and walked straight toward my private studio, planning to handle Prince Al-Saud's order first.
"Wait."
That voice came from behind me.
I turned around and met Royce's eyes.
He was holding that loose diamond, examining it carefully against the light.
"This 'Oppenheimer Blue' has a cutting problem."
The manager's face changed instantly.
This diamond had just been shipped from a South African mine last month and processed by the studio's top cutter. How could there be a problem?
"Mr. Sterling, this... this is impossible. Our cutter is..."
"The crown facets are too shallow, causing serious light leakage. It's lost at least thirty percent of its fire."
I cut off the manager directly and walked to Royce's side, glancing at the diamond in his hand.
I didn't even need a magnifying glass to see the problem.
Royce turned his head, his gaze falling on me.
There was no surprise in those eyes, but rather a hint of "just as I thought."
"Oh?" He raised an eyebrow. "So you must be the Astraea they talk about."
His gaze made me uncomfortable, like a hunter looking at prey that interested him.
"So, what do you think should be done?" He held the diamond out to me, as if testing me.
I took the cold stone and turned it between my fingers.
"Simple. Re-cut it. Change to a radiant cut. Sacrifice a bit of carat weight, but maximize its color and fire retention. This blue diamond's value lies in its unique color, not its size."
I finished speaking and placed the diamond back in his palm.
"Interesting." He rubbed the diamond. "I thought all businesspeople would pursue maximum profit. Sacrificing carat weight isn't a smart choice."
"I'm not a businessperson, I'm a designer." I shot back coldly. "In my world, artistic value comes above all else."
I thought he would start arguing with me about price and returns like other vulgar wealthy people.
But he didn't.
"Artistic value..." He repeated in a low voice, then smiled. "I like that answer. So, Astraea, what kind of design do you think has 'soul'?"
This question caught me off guard.
It had been a long time since anyone asked me this question.