Klara Devine & Georgina Gee -

“I make it my business to know the names of people who want to take things from me.” Georgina tapped the beaded bag. “You’re here for the red pebble, aren’t you?”

Georgina’s gaze drifted to the attic window. “Because that diary is the only heirloom I care about. And you, Klara Devine, are the only person in fifty years who has touched it with reverence instead of greed. You didn’t take it. You just… read it. And then you put it back exactly as you found it.” klara devine & georgina gee

No point in lying. “It belongs to my family’s trust. The earl was a guest. He abused that trust. The ruby should never have left the vault.” “I make it my business to know the

Klara felt heat rise to her cheeks. She had. It was a diary from 1943, written by a young woman in occupied Paris. A woman who had hidden Jewish children in her bookshop. A woman who signed her entries only as “G.G.” And you, Klara Devine, are the only person

Klara’s smile didn’t waver, but her pulse ticked up. “I’m flattered you’ve heard of me.”

“The diary. The last entry I read… she mentioned a sister she lost in the war. A sister named Klara.”

Klara laughed—a real, startled laugh. She tucked the pouch into her own pocket, gave a small bow of her head, and turned to walk away. After three steps, she paused. “Mrs. Gee?”