CEO's Regret After I Divorced-Chapter 367 The Devil’s Bargain

Serena’s POV

I couldn’t help but smile when the news arrived: ART Design Company had been formally disqualified from Fashion Week. The outcome, while satisfying, didn’t surprise me in the least.

"What’s got you looking so pleased?" Sally asked, breezing into my office with an elegant gift box in hand.

I showed her the official notification. She clapped her hands together in immediate delight.

"Finally! Serves Sophie right!" she exclaimed, her satisfaction evident. "Let her steal our sketches—now she can’t even participate. ART’s reputation is in tatters."

"A fitting consequence for playing with fire," I remarked, a wave of quiet contentment settling over me. "Did she truly believe we’d be such easy targets?"

After sharing a moment of vindication, Sally turned to the box. She opened it to reveal an array of jewelry and diamonds, each piece gleaming under the office lights.

She smiled. "The quality is exceptional."

I gave them a cursory examination and nodded. "They’re beautiful. But for our finale piece... they still lack the necessary uniqueness."

I handed Sally the design for the showcase garment. Her eyes widened.

"Serena, how does your mind work?" she gasped, genuine awe in her voice. "Managing Fashion Week, orchestrating Sophie’s downfall, and creating something this exquisite? It’s extraordinary."

I waved off the praise. "Save the flattery. I haven’t named it yet. But for the centerpiece," I pointed to the focal point of the sketch, "I envision a truly unique ruby. At least the size of a pigeon’s egg."

Sally studied the design, nodding slowly. "A larger stone would be perfect, but finding one with ideal color and clarity... that will be a challenge." She sighed, already mentally cataloging her contacts. "I’ll start making inquiries immediately."

"The higher the quality, the better," I emphasized as she gathered the jewels to leave.

With only three days remaining, securing the perfect gemstone was our final hurdle. I allowed myself a brief moment to stretch and breathe, feeling the relentless pressure begin to ebb.

The respite was short-lived. By evening, Sally returned, her expression apologetic. She had contacted every reputable supplier, all to no avail. The finest ruby matching our specifications, it turned out, was currently in the possession of Ryan Blackwood.

Any fleeting sense of victory evaporated. This Fashion Week was critical for Elegant Realm’s future. Personal sentiments could not be allowed to compromise it. If Ryan was willing to sell, I would meet his terms.

I went directly to the Blackwood headquarters. Though merely a branch of the global empire, its London office was a imposing skyscraper dominating the city center. Taking a steadying breath, I maintained a composed façade as the elevator ascended smoothly to the top floor. The process was unnervingly efficient—no waiting, no announcement, just a silent escort directly to his office.

Ryan was seated on a sofa, his gaze lifting to meet mine the moment I entered. "You’re here," he said, his tone casual, as if my arrival was expected.

A ripple of discomfort passed through me. Had he anticipated this? The ease of my access felt like walking into a prepared snare. I avoided his eyes, my feet seemingly rooted to the threshold.

Noting my hesitation, he cleared his throat. "You’re here about the ruby."

It wasn’t a question. Forcing myself forward, I adopted a businesslike tone. "Yes. If you are willing to sell it, Mr. Blackwood, price is not an obstacle."

Ryan observed my rigid posture and sighed softly. "Am I truly so terrifying? Please, sit."

I hesitated before perching on the edge of the opposite sofa. "Your time is valuable. Might I see the stone first?" If it failed to meet expectations, further discussion would be pointless.

His eyes held mine for a beat longer before he turned, opening a drawer and retrieving an exquisite velvet case. I reached for it instinctively, but he didn’t immediately release it, his fingers lingering for a moment before letting go.

When I opened the lid, my breath caught. I had harbored hopes, but the reality surpassed them. Nestled within was a ruby of impeccable pigeon-blood red, its size precisely what I had envisioned. It was perfect.

A faint, amused smile touched Ryan’s lips as he watched my reaction. "This stone," he began, his voice softening, "was intended as a surprise gift for my wife. A celebration. But before I could give it, she... vanished."

The intimate history of the gemstone hung heavily in the air. I felt a pang of awkward intrusion. This wasn’t merely a asset; it was a relic of a personal tragedy. Yet, the stakes for my studio, for my team, pressed down on me. "Mr. Blackwood," I said, my voice firmer than I felt, "would you be willing to part with it?"

He nodded. "Not sell. Give."

I froze. Then, carefully, I closed the box and set it back on the table between us. "For something of such value, I can only engage in a purchase, not a gift. I do not accept debts of that nature."

I pressed my lips together, certain that such generosity came with invisible strings, strings that would inevitably entangle me further with him. "If you are unwilling to sell, then I must seek an alternative," I stated, rising to leave.

A bitter laugh escaped him. "Serena, do you honestly believe you’ll find its equal elsewhere in three days?" He shook his head, his tone shifting to one of weary resignation. "Very well. I will sell it."

Relief warred with fresh wariness. "Name your price."

"I will sell it," he repeated, his gaze intent. "And as a gesture of thanks for the business, you will have dinner with me. Surely that is a customary courtesy?"

He was seizing the opportunity, using the thinnest veneer of social convention to bridge the distance I maintained. "Don’t worry," he added, seeing my conflict. "You may choose the venue and the time."

He waited, his expression a blend of expectation and a challenge. "Is that acceptable?"