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'I keep catching little words but the meanings thin'

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Coco Chanel once said, 'My reason for choosing diamonds is that, dense as they are, they represent the greatest worth in the smallest volume.' Such small fragments worth millions and bestowed upon whoever is willing to place the highest bid. Many question the need to spend so much money on an object that will probably never see the light of day given their value, but I've never thought like that. I understand what makes someone spend such a grand amount of money on something that others see as disposable. They don't need to explain their radiance; their shine speaks for itself. In all its bright technicolour, a diamond represents strength, glory, and power. They start as something so insignificant and dark, but after enduring huge amounts of pressure they transform into the brightest light in the world. Greater than the sun, the moon and the stars. Greater than anything man could make. Entirely natural, entirely brilliant.

Diamonds deserve respect. They don't need permission to shine as they do. They create it themselves. Something that should be respected. Granted, most respect lies in their aesthetic and financial value, but to those of us that understand them, it is their endurance that makes them worthy.

It is the prospect of seeing more diamonds that finally brought me out of bed. After weeks of mourning, weeks of barely sleeping and screaming until my lungs hurt, I finally found the courage to breathe. Going through Dad's stuff was just the tip of the iceberg; the entire time I wanted to sob. I wanted to run as far away as I could until my legs could no longer carry me, and my body collapsed. I wanted to lay underneath the rain that pelted down and drown in it, just so I could reunite with my best friend.

Then the discovery of the note came. The final piece of the puzzle that Harry and I have been desperately trying to put together, now in its final glory. With this information, everything made sense. Dad had been given the one thing Steven valued, the one thing we now know Hugo is after. Hugo is Wild. They worked together and it was right under our noses. I can't believe how naïve we were to ignore such an obvious piece of information, but I believe that we were both in denial of it. To admit it meant we finally acknowledge the legacy surrounding us, that our part within this scheme is but a fraction in the bigger picture.

Upon finding out who killed his father, Harry closed in on himself. His reaction was different to mine when my father died. I suppose he's had time to process Steven's death, even if he was never close with him, but the knowledge of who killed him being the same person after us only complicates things.

I had tried to comfort him in the same way he had me, but in that moment he didn't need me. He needed to be alone to process everything that's been hidden from him all these years. He's been a puppet on a string his whole life, and just when he thought he'd broke free and taken control of his life, the master revealed himself. To Harry, the world he built up around himself has started to crack, and everything needs to be re-evaluated.

That night, he locked himself away in his office and reread every journal, every note, every plan, desperate to find something that revealed what we discovered. But, as expected, nothing could have indicated Hugo's involvement. Wild is rarely mentioned in the journals, and when he is it's usually a passing comment about his incompetence. It's clear Cassidy didn't hold him in a high regard. He underestimated him. I think we all did.

Because Hugo has been plotting this for far longer than any of us have. It goes beyond simply stealing some diamonds. This is something he's worked for his whole life, and Harry and I stand in the way of it. And he's made it very clear he will stop at nothing to get what he wants, including murdering us on the way.

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