Mike follows me into the elevator as we make our way down into the store section. The staff acknowledges me with polite nods as I walk across the various display cases. It’s almost closing time and there are still a few patrons around. Just as I’m about to exit, I see an old man peering into a tray of rings. He selects one and puts it on his pinkie finger.

“Yes, this is the one. She’ll love it,” he tells the girl attending him. “Please wrap this up for me.”

He swivels and his eyes meet mine. I give him a warm smile and exit outside.

I scroll through my phone while Mike instructs the store valet to fetch my car. When a few minutes have passed, I look up. “What’s going on, Mike? Where’s the car?”

Mike squints to his right. “Sir, there seems to be a traffic jam right outside the underground car park.”

I sigh and tuck my phone into my pocket and look to the right. Sure enough, there’s a garbage truck stopped right outside the exit of the car park.

I rub my hands against the seeping cold while we wait for the traffic to clear.

“You’re still here, Your Grace?” Peter asks, walking towards me.

“Yes, I’m waiting for the car.” I point to the truck.

“Oh!” Peter nods and we both lapse into silence.

“Good evening,” a cheerful voice says from my other side.

The old man from the store is smiling at me. He’s carrying a small Annette & Co. paper bag in his hand.

“Good evening,” I respond.

“You’re the new owner, right?”

I nod.

“That girl pointed you out when you were leaving.”

“I hope you enjoyed your purchase?”

His weathered and wrinkled face breaks into a grin. “I did. It’s my fiftieth anniversary tomorrow and I’m hoping to surprise my wife with this gift. We bought our wedding rings from your store and my wife always says that whatever jewelry you dream of, you will find it at Annette & Co.”

“Thank you,” I say, touching my chest, “I’m honored.”

And this right here is the reason why I want this legacy, gifted to me by the hand of fate, to survive and prosper. This is why I want to nurture it for my future generations.

I extend my hand to him. “Damien Talbot.”

He shakes it firmly. “Timothy Rivers. You’re the new Duke that everyone’s talking about, isn’t it?”

Before I can reply, there’s the blaring sound of a motorcycle engine. Tires squeal against the road, drawing closer to us. I turn and Mike rams into me, pushing me to ground. I hit the floor on my side and Mike’s entire body covers me. Bullet shells explode around us in a deafening sound before the bike zooms off and there is silence again.