Chapter 3
TREASURE MAP (CLEO)
Welp.
I’m so confused I can hardly breathe.
PopPop loved his mysteries growing up. He was a master of puzzles and he made it his personal mission to send us on complex scavenger hunts along the beach, the backyard, or sometimes when we’d visit that adorable little cabin upstate.
But this?
This feels a little like finding out my adoring, whimsical grandfather pulled the legendary sword from the stone, and he’s just been sitting on it for my entire life.
My head keeps whirling well over an hour later, though it feels like ten minutes. Maybe three lifetimes.
Who knows.
His crumpled letter hangs from my hand, the ink slightly smudged from the sweat on my palms. I’ve read it so many times I can probably recite the words in my sleep, but I still don’t grasp what it’s saying.
I mean, I understand the literal message. But the reality where he left this egg for me?
I can’t.
I can’t believe he chose me over Ethan and Margot and everybody in the world who’s more qualified. He decided to give me the Hera Egg no one knew he had.
I bring the letter to my chest, inhaling it.
I swear there’s the faintest hint of his smell.
Old books and muted cologne. Leather and leaves. A lifetime of celebrations and regrets from Maine to New York to Athens and Cairo.
He called me his granddaughter, and I believed him. But if I had any doubts when inheritance time came… I wonder if this is how he’s decided to prove it.
Reading his words lets me hear him from the Great Beyond. Something I never thought I’d experience again.
My dearest Cleopatra.
Despite everything, I smile.
He’s probably the only person alive who’d call me by my full name.
Definitely the only person who didn’t make me feel ridiculous for being named after an ancient Egyptian queen.
We can thank my parents for that. A grandma on my mom’s side who shared the name was all it took to get Dad on board. He loved how pretentious it sounded and swore it made me destined for greatness.
Too bad I never fit the bill.
But now that I’m a little older and past the high school teasing, I’ve grown into it, I guess. Cleo suits me because it’s familiar.
And partly because PopPop made it more tolerable with his stories and old history books. He made me realize being a badass, strong woman is actually a bit of a humble brag.
Big shoes to fill after a queen who had Julius Caesar and Marc Anthony wrapped around her finger, but sometimes there’s a little placebo effect. Channeled energy.
Back when I didn’t believe in myself, when I thought Dad’s sad legacy was the only thing I’d inherit, I had to cling to PopPop’s confidence in me.
His acceptance for my name, my art, my troubled little existence.
I continue reading.
By now, Miss Wilkes has shown you the Hera Egg, and you’ll know the gravity of what I’ve bequeathed to you. You’ll understand why it’s vital that it doesn’t get sold off like another middling niche piece from the rest of my collection.
You must wonder how it came into my hands.
Pure happenstance.
The Hera Egg found me as a young man, on a business trip to Crete. This was decades ago, not long after the Second World War and the Greek Civil War ended. Everything was chaos, an entire continent in shambles still trying to recover.
History grabs you by the throat the second you step into a war-torn country trying to get on its feet. I can’t tell you how messy it was, how they needed fresh blood and brave money.
You’re a smart girl. I won’t bore you with details. I know you’ll look it up if you truly care.
A rumor brought me to an antiquities dealer in a small fishing town. I suppose I always had a knack for following my nose, which is exactly what I did after a long day hiking and winding through bustling markets.
The smell was a magnet. A kakavia fishermen’s stew I can still taste to this day had me breaking bread with two brothers who had a relative in the marketplace.
My gut told me I had a lead worth pursuing, and it turned out I was right. The dealer kept it in a back room, hidden in a ceramic urn.
When he laid it in front of me, I thought I’d gone blind. Even through a layer of dust, it was as bright and beautiful as a diamond from another world.
If the dealer didn’t have paperwork backing up his discovery, I would’ve believed the egg was another forgery, but I took a chance on the purchase. Intuition, you see?
I stop and smile.
It’s like he’s in the room with me, standing in front of the fire with his hands clasped, recounting his story in that slow, steady bard way he had. Like he’d carefully chosen every word in advance.
I wonder if he picked up some of that in Greece, too.
So different from my style. Gramps was calm while I word-vomit my feelings every time I tell a story. Tangents galore.
But even when he’d get distracted, he’d always lead us back to the point.
He used to say nothing replaces having a gut for business in careers or in life.
That’s why some people never make it, no matter how hard they work. Success is equal parts instinct, inspiration, and effort.
I’m sure he told Dad at some point. If only he’d taken that to heart.
His gut never led to good decisions, and it’s bitten him in the ass more times than I can count.
I don’t know if I have ‘it.’ Sometimes I think I’m scared to find out what tree this apple really falls from.
I go back to reading.
Naturally, I had to act.
At the time, I didn’t know if I was doing the right thing, but years of research after the fact proved those letters were authentic. This little glory was never lost to history, just time.
It’s my most prized possession, Cleo, and I’m entrusting it to you.
Of all my grandkids, you’re the only one with a soul sensitive enough to truly appreciate its soul. However, you’re not obliged to keep it or squirrel it away from the world the same way I did.
I’m trusting you with its legacy. Whatever you decide, I believe you’ll keep it safe.
This is no burden.
Let it inspire you! Let it become a new muse that will lead you to greatness. It can certainly do that from a safe distance, if you don’t want to bear the responsibility.
If and when you decide to sell it, or even simply move it around, I must warn you: there may be dangers. A treasure like this won’t stay secret for long once it’s brought to the world’s attention.
The most precious wonders have a terrible habit of attracting the ugliest people.
Which brings me to my final point.
To ensure your safety, I’ve enlisted a man you can trust. Holden Verity.
I’m confident he’ll remain at your service until the blessed Hera Egg finds a more permanent home, whenever and wherever that may be.
Please work with him, my dear. Kindly try not to pull his tail too much.
You were so young when you’d drive him up the wall—and wasn’t that fun?—but he’s a stalwart protector. Never doubt his expertise and his loyalty to this family.
If I had the slightest doubt, I wouldn’t have made this decision.
I hope this darling secret brings you the joy it’s brought me over the years.
Eternal love,
Your Shameless Old PopPop
I lay the letter down on my lap with a sigh. The last part sticks with me like a hook sweeping through my mind.
Holden.
He’s leaving me with Holden.
Grumpy, miserable, stone-faced Holden Hardass.
At my service? Um, more like stuck with me until I can unload this white elephant.
If I can unload it.
This feels like a bad dream. The most incredible gift I could ever imagine, and it comes with the biggest self-propelled cock on the planet.
Maybe if I pinch myself hard enough, I’ll wake up.
I grasp the skin of my inner arm.
Pain shoots up to my shoulder.
“Ow,” I mutter, rubbing my skin, just as the door swings open and in walks Moody Mc-fucking-Miserable himself.
So much for waking up.
He has a letter in his hand and his eyes are slits.
“Oh. I see you got one too,” I say.
“Yeah.” He eyeballs me suspiciously.
“Let me guess, it’s all puppies and kittens?”
“Like hell.” He snorts loudly.
I hate how he knows he’d find me curled up in one of the old chairs. I wandered down to the library after I read the letter the first couple times. It was the only place I felt safe in this weird, vacant house when I went looking for a quiet place to process the gut punch.
This was supposed to be a special, private moment to come to terms with everything.
Not this. Not him.
I massage my temples as he scowls at me from across the room.
“So what did yours say?” I wonder if he’ll blow me off.
“He outlined his terms.” He throws the letter down on the table, the edges of the paper fluttering slightly. “I will execute Leonidas Blackthorn’s wishes to the letter of the law, and then I’ll be done.”
“Cool.” I pop a thumbs-up, trying not to laugh.
The expression on his face could melt the paint off the walls.
“Cool,” he grunts back, barely sounding human.
We glare at each other slowly.
Yeah, this is going to be peachy.
I suck in a deep breath. “So… we should probably think about this situation. What it should look like. You”—I point at him—“and me. And the egg, I mean.”
He folds his arms tightly, causing an obscene bulge in his sweater.
“The basics aren’t that complicated. I’ll stand in as your security, keeping you and your cargo safe from any external threats.”
“My ‘cargo.’ You make it sound like I’ve inherited a nuclear warhead.” I roll my eyes and try not to laugh.
He also makes it sound like we’ll be dodging mafia speedboats. Danger or not, it can’t be that ridiculous.
“But what else is new?” I sigh softly. “We’ve been there before. Like when I was sixteen and you welded the door to Leonidas’ wine cellar shut.”
No amusement in his deep, bearish brown eyes. They just narrow like a hunting hawk.
“You bet. It was my pleasure. It would’ve been my ass if I let a minor get blackout drunk on my watch.”
“It was none of your business.”
“It was my business when Leonidas asked me to keep you out of trouble.”
Out of trouble.