Chapter 43 Precious Gift
Selena's POV
I looked at the silver-haired old woman in front of me. She asked me if I really planned to marry her arrogant and boring grandson.
My first reaction was to laugh.
Her assessment of her own grandson was damn accurate.
"Mrs. Sterling," I picked up my teacup and, mimicking her, blew on it gently before speaking. "I don't plan to marry anyone. At least, not in this arranged way."
"Good." She nodded, seeming satisfied with my answer. "A girl with backbone. I like that."
She picked up a scone and elegantly spread cream and jam on it with a small silver knife.
"That boy Royce—he's fine in every way, except he's too much like his control-freak father. Always thinking everything can be bought with money and power, including people. I've told him before that a Hart family girl isn't someone he can handle the same way he deals with those Wall Street idiots."
A Hart family girl? She seemed to know quite a bit about our family.
"Aren't you curious how I know so much?" She saw right through me, taking a bite of her scone and speaking leisurely.
I said nothing, just watched her, waiting for her to continue.
"Your grandmother, Eleanor Hart, was my best friend."
My heart skipped a beat.
Grandmother?
The grandmother I'd only seen in old photos, who supposedly died before I was born?
"When we were young, we went to school together in Switzerland. She taught me to ride horses, and I taught her how to get those annoying suitors drunk at balls." A hint of nostalgia appeared in Margaret's eyes. "She was a true warrior, braver than all of us. When she decided to give up everything and marry your farmer-like grandfather, everyone thought she'd gone crazy. Only I knew she had found her freedom."
She put down her teacup, her gaze sharpening again.
"I see her shadow in you. Especially when you returned that five billion dollars. Eleanor would have done the same thing, except she probably would have torn up the check and thrown it in their face."
I didn't know what to say. The family rarely talked about my grandmother. All I knew was that she was a legend, a woman who gave up her prominent family background for love.
Now, I seemed to understand where that stubborn streak in me came from.
"So, child, do you understand now?" Margaret leaned forward slightly, looking at me. "I didn't ask you here to interrogate you or force you to accept this marriage. I just wanted to see for myself whether my old friend's granddaughter is also, like her, a worthy opponent."
"Opponent?"
"Of course, an opponent." She said matter-of-factly. "Royce wants to turn you into his wife, an appendage. And I want to see if you can turn him into your... well, your what?" She tilted her head, thinking, then smiled. "Your trophy."
I was completely confused by this old lady.
Was she... coaching me on how to deal with her grandson?
"Don't look at me like that." She waved her hand. "The men in the Sterling family need a woman who can keep them grounded. A woman who can slap them and tell them not to be so full of themselves. I'm old, I can't control him anymore. Now, I want to pass this task to you."
What was this? A family legacy?
I felt like I was listening to a fairy tale.
"Why should I help you?" I asked, cutting straight to the point. "What's in it for the Hart family? What's in it for me?"
"What's in it for you?" She laughed, sharp and calculating like a fox sizing up prey. "Here's what you get—the entire Sterling family fortune backing you. Whatever Royce can offer, I'll double it. What he can't deliver, I still can. You keep building your 'Astraea' empire, keep being the jewelry queen you are, and nobody will ever mess with you again. All I need from you is one simple favor."
"What?"
"Don't let him swallow you whole." She said. "You need to turn it around and tame him."
Looking at her, I realized for the first time that Royce Sterling's damn need for control and obsession was definitely hereditary.
Except his grandmother was way more skilled than him.
She wasn't negotiating with me—she was offering me a more tempting contract. A contract with Royce as the prey.
"I need time to think about it." I finally said.
"Of course." She nodded, seeming not at all surprised.
Then she removed a bracelet from her wrist.
It was a bracelet carved from a single piece of imperial green jade, entirely emerald green with excellent clarity, gleaming with a warm luster in the sunlight. Clearly a priceless antique.
"This was passed to me by my mother. Now, I'm giving it to you as a meeting gift." As she spoke, she moved to slip the bracelet onto my wrist.
I instinctively pulled my hand back.
Here we go again.
Another attempt to bind me with expensive gifts.
"Mrs. Sterling, this is too valuable. I can't accept it." I refused.
"This isn't a transaction, child." Her attitude was firm. "This is my recognition. I recognize that you're worthy of wearing it."
Her eyes wouldn't let me refuse, just like Royce.
I looked at the bracelet. It was beautiful, full of historical weight.
But it didn't belong to me.
Wearing it would be like wearing shackles.
I took a deep breath.
"Thank you for your kindness, Mrs. Sterling. But our family has a rule." I looked at her calmly.
"Oh? What rule?" She raised an eyebrow, clearly interested.
"We never accept gifts we can't reciprocate." I said. "This bracelet represents the Sterling family's history and legacy. At the moment, I don't have a gift worthy of matching it."
A flash of approval crossed her eyes.
"However," I continued, taking a pen and a small sketchbook from my handbag. This was something I always carried with me.
Right in front of her, I opened to a new page and quickly began sketching on the paper.
My pen scratched across the paper, and the outline of a design soon appeared clearly.
It was a brooch.
The entire design was full of power and ambition, sharp and unapologetic in its boldness.
This was one of the core designs I'd conceived for that five-billion-dollar order, "The Queen's Conquest."
Now, I was giving it to another "queen."
I finished the last stroke and pushed the sketchbook toward her.
"This is the gift I can give you—a one-of-a-kind brooch design. I'm calling it: 'Margaret's Will.' If you like it, I'll personally oversee the craftsmen and have it made for you with the finest materials."
Margaret's gaze fell on the design.
She didn't speak immediately.
The conservatory was so quiet that only our breathing could be heard.