Chapter 3 The Secret of the Blood Diamond

# Chapter 3: The Secret of the Blood Diamond

I barely slept that night, the desperate plea from the diary haunting me. Who was the real Vivienne? What had happened to her? And most disturbingly, was I destined for the same fate?

Morning brought Eden back to the vault, carrying a sleek metal case. He looked pleased with my transformation, circling me like an art dealer assessing a newly acquired masterpiece.

"You've been studying," he observed. "Good. The diaries are enlightening, aren't they?"

"Who was she?" I asked directly. "The real Vivienne."

Something flickered in Eden's pale eyes—surprise, perhaps, that I'd discovered the truth so quickly. "Clever girl. But that's not your concern."

"It is if I'm supposed to become her." I stood my ground. "The last diary entry—someone was asking for help."

"Focus on your role, Ms. Harlow." His tone hardened. "Your life depends on it."

Before I could press further, Eden set the metal case on the table and opened it. Inside was an array of gemological equipment—loupe, microscope, refractometer, ultraviolet light. Professional tools I used every day at the auction house.

"What's this for?" I asked, confused by the sudden shift.

"You're a gemologist. I thought you might like to examine your new accessory properly." Eden gestured to the diamond at my throat. "Professional curiosity must be killing you."

He was right, of course. Despite everything, the Crimson Tear fascinated me. Its color, its clarity, its very existence defied everything I knew about red diamonds.

"You'll let me examine it?" I couldn't hide my surprise.

"Consider it a reward for your progress." Eden unlocked the necklace with a tiny key from his pocket. "But it stays in the vault."

I held the diamond carefully, its weight familiar yet strange in my hand. Eden watched as I set up the equipment and began my examination.

Under the microscope, the diamond revealed its secrets. The crystal structure was perfect—too perfect for a natural diamond. Yet it lacked the telltale signs of synthetic stones. I switched to the ultraviolet light, watching as it fluoresced with an unusual pattern I'd never seen before.

"This isn't just a red diamond," I murmured, more to myself than to Eden. "The coloration is... I've never seen anything like it."

"What makes it unique?" Eden asked, standing closer than necessary, his breath warming my neck.

"Red diamonds get their color from plastic deformation—stress on the crystal lattice during formation. But this..." I adjusted the microscope. "The color distribution is too uniform, and there are inclusions I can't identify."

I reached for the spectrometer, determined to analyze those strange inclusions. The results made me freeze.

"That's impossible," I whispered.

"What is it?"

I ran the test again. Same result. "There are organic compounds in this diamond. Protein structures." I looked up at Eden, bewildered. "Human hemoglobin. Blood crystals."

Eden's face remained impassive, but a cold smile played at the corners of his mouth. "Is it so impossible? Diamonds are formed under extreme pressure and heat. The right conditions..."

"No," I shook my head. "Organic material would be destroyed in diamond formation. This isn't natural. Someone engineered this."

"Very good." Eden seemed pleased by my deduction. "The Crimson Tear is unique. A technological marvel few know exists—diamonds infused with stabilized organic material."

"But why blood? Whose blood?" A horrible thought occurred to me. "Your mother's?"

Eden's expression darkened. He took the diamond from my hands, holding it up to the light. The red seemed to pulse, to deepen as he stared into it.

"My mother was brilliant," he said softly. "A gemologist like you, but also a chemical engineer. She discovered the process by accident—a way to preserve organic material within a diamond's structure during formation."

"That's... revolutionary technology."

"And dangerous in the wrong hands." Eden's voice hardened. "My brother saw only profit. Military applications. DNA storage. But my mother had other ideas."

He fell silent, lost in memory. I waited, sensing I was finally getting close to understanding why I was here.

"When she knew she was dying," Eden continued, "she created this diamond. Her final gift to me." His cold smile returned. "My mother's last words to me were, 'Let my blood become your weapon.'"

A chill ran through me. "You're saying that diamond contains your mother's blood? That's—"

"Macabre? Sentimental? Both, perhaps." Eden fastened the necklace back around my throat. "But mostly practical. My mother understood that symbols have power."

I touched the stone, feeling its unnatural warmth against my skin. The idea that I was wearing someone's blood—preserved for eternity in crystal—made me nauseated.

"What happened to her?" I asked quietly.

"She was murdered." Eden's voice was matter-of-fact, but his eyes burned with contained fury. "Not directly. Not obviously. But murdered all the same."

"By your brother?"

"By the Constantine family," Eden corrected. "My father. My brother. The company board. They pushed her research in directions she never intended. When she threatened to go public about what they were doing, they arranged an... accident."

His calm recitation of matricide chilled me more than any emotional outburst would have.

"I'm sorry," I said, meaning it despite everything. "But I still don't understand what this has to do with me."

Eden pulled a small electronic tablet from his pocket and handed it to me. On the screen was a technical diagram of the diamond's base—the part hidden by the setting. Zooming in, I saw microscopic engraving: "E.C.'s Revenge Fund—Activation Code: J.H."

My initials. J.H. Janice Harlow.

"This can't be a coincidence," I whispered, looking up at Eden.

"There are no coincidences, Ms. Harlow. Only patterns we fail to recognize." He took back the tablet. "My mother chose you long before I did."

"That's impossible. I never met your mother."

"No, but she knew of you. Your reputation. Your expertise." Eden's eyes held mine. "And your connection to the Constantine family."

"I have no connection to your family," I protested. "I'd never heard of you before you kidnapped me."

Eden's smile was knowing, infuriating. "You have more connections than you realize. All will become clear in time."

He gathered the gemological equipment, packing it back into the case. "You've confirmed what my mother always told me—the diamond is unique. Valuable beyond price. And now it serves its purpose."

"Which is what, exactly?"

"To mark you. To protect you. To connect us." Eden's hand brushed against the stone at my throat. "And to help us destroy Alexander Constantine."

"I won't help you hurt anyone," I said firmly.

Eden laughed, a sound devoid of humor. "You already are. Every moment you wear that diamond, every time Alexander sees you as Vivienne—you're helping me."

He headed for the vault door, then paused. "Tomorrow you meet my brother. Be ready."

"Wait," I called after him. "You said J.H. was an activation code. Activation for what?"

Eden turned back, his expression unreadable. "My mother's legacy. Her final gift to the world." His cold smile returned. "Diamonds last forever, Ms. Harlow. So do some forms of justice."

The door closed behind him with its familiar heavy thud, leaving me alone with the diamond—with its imprisoned blood and its secrets.

I returned to Vivienne's diaries, searching for any mention of Eden's mother, any clue about what connected me to this twisted family drama. Hours passed as I read, pieced together timelines, looked for patterns.

Near midnight, exhausted and frustrated, I found it—a photograph tucked between pages of an early diary. A group of gemology students at a conference in Antwerp. I recognized several faces, including my own mentor, Professor Harrington.

And there, in the back row, was a woman with Eden's pale eyes and determined expression. Her name tag read "Dr. E. Constantine."

Beside her stood a younger woman, barely more than a girl, who looked startlingly familiar.

My mother. Twenty-five years ago.

They knew each other. My mother and Eden's mother had been colleagues.

The room seemed to spin around me as pieces clicked into place. J.H. wasn't my initials.

They were my mother's maiden name: Julia Harlow.

I wasn't chosen randomly. I was chosen because of who my mother was—who she had known.

The diamond at my throat felt heavier than ever, its secrets multiplying with every revelation. What had my mother been involved in? What was I unwittingly part of now?

And most terrifying—what exactly was I activating by wearing Eden Constantine's blood diamond?