Maeve wasn't the shy type. Once the deal was made, she moved immediately.
The first stone the pen tip landed on was priced at $52,000—dark-skinned rough, nothing obvious on the surface.
Michael marked it without hesitation.
The second pick was $55,000—another piece that didn't show much from the outside.
The third was $48,000, similar to the first two—no color showing, no flashy "promise" to lure amateurs.
With the three stones chosen, Maeve let Michael and Carson pick first.
Michael studied them for a moment and chose the first one. "People say that mine site is legendary—old growth, fine texture. I'll take this."
He talked like he had confidence, but inside he didn't expect anything.
None of Maeve's picks showed color.
They couldn't compare to the stones priced in the hundreds of thousands or millions, the ones already revealing rich veins through polished windows.
At fifty grand, it was entertainment—nothing more.
Carson chose the second.
Like Michael, he didn't take a fifty-thousand-dollar stone seriously.
The one he'd truly been eyeing was a $900,000 piece—partly polished, already showing multiple colors. The texture looked decent; he just wasn't sure whether the whole thing would open cleanly.
But this was a game. Worst case, he could come back tomorrow and buy the expensive one for his grandfather.
After Michael and Carson chose, the last stone belonged to Maeve.
All three of them were the action-oriented type. They paid, then told the cutter to open the stones.
While they waited, Michael tried to get friendly. "Mr. Hayes—he's your boyfriend?"
Carson subtly angled his head, listening.
Maeve spun her pen again. "He's too much. Not my type."
Michael had to admit—accurate. Quinn really was the kind of guy who lit fires just to watch people scramble.

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