Of All the Vaults in the World.

A jewellery exhibition like the world has never seen. It will be groundbreaking—the most diverse and precious of all time. Chinese dynasty jade, Fabergé eggs, and gems worn by royalty. A piece of history set in the form of priceless diamonds.

Lucky for me, I get to see these beauties first. It might be in the dark, but their brilliance cannot be dulled. They wait there in the silence, waiting for me to give them my warm touch.

As carefully as they have been crafted, they go into my bag. I will be rich. I have suffered long enough. I deserve this. The villa in Italy will be a reality and not just a dream anymore.

The pearl and diamond earrings Marie Antoinette wore feel almost unreal. She wore these. There is a tingle in my soul. It’s like being a kid in a candy store—or should I say, a cat burglar in a jewellery exhibition. The guards are fast asleep from the darts. The alarm disabled with the passcode I snatched. The glass boxes opened thanks to the keys I stole.

The heavenly bliss is rudely interrupted. A shadowy figure melts with the darkness as it also starts opening glass boxes.

Oh great. Someone else also had a brilliant idea like me.

Annoyance and fear mix. I should leave. As I turn to make my exit, the earring from the bag slips and falls to the ground.

You have got to be kidding.

The shadowy figure spins around at the sound that has broken the silence of two lurking thieves. I stand frozen. I should just run, but what if he shoots me in the back? He steps forward out of the dark, but is unarmed. Just stands and stares.

“Are you going to stand there and stare me to death? I need to leave. I can’t stand here all night.”

“What would you prefer? That I shoot you?” He draws out a Glock with one hand and holds his gear in the other. As he comes closer, I can see the angry scowl. I drop the bag with both arms raised.

“Don’t shoot, please, I’m unarmed.” I won’t risk shooting someone if I don’t need to. I will not be caught. I will leave no trace behind—not even a bullet. Well, not if I can help it, of course.

He studies the bag of jewels on the ground.

“Please let me leave.” I have to talk myself out of this if I can.

He smirks and comes even closer. “Well, you’ve taken my share.”

“First come, first serve. Now please excuse me.” I swallow. I can do this. It’s okay. Deep breath. Give him one last chance—if not, then I’ll grab the gun out of his hand like I was taught.

He scowls and his mouth twists. He rolls his eyes to the ceiling, still with the gun in his hands, contemplating whether he should have mercy on me. But I have had enough. As he ponders to the ceiling, I grab the gun out of his hand and point it back at him.

His expression changes completely—wide eyes and a step back.

“Whoa! Sorry!”

“Were you seriously contemplating if you were going to let me leave?! I was here first, mister!”

“I need this! I have debts to pay!” he defends, with his hands raised. The tables have quickly turned.

“Well, I need it too! This is a dog-eat-dog world, and if you want to survive, you need to be a wolf.”

“Oh yeah, for what?”

“Well, I don’t need to say—I did not ask you. You just said it. What I’m going to do with these jewels is my business.” Not gonna say I need a villa in Italy.

“Well... I need the jewelry.” For someone being held at gunpoint, he’s quite calm—and very demanding, too.

“Not to burst your bubble, but green emerald is not your colour.” Like I said, I was here first. He can really take the rest?

“I’m going to sell it, dammit.” His look of annoyance is wonderful. Here we are, two burglars bickering in the dark about silly things.

“I was sarcastic! Listen, you can take the rest, but I am taking what I got.”

He rolls his eyes again, sighs, and sucks his tongue in his mouth. He crosses his arms over his chest. “Fine,” he mutters like a sulky child.

“Give me back my gun.”

My eyes squint in the dark. I don’t think so. I take out the ammunition from the gun, giving him only the empty weapon.

He puts his hands on his hips, disgusted. “Listen, missy, you can’t give me an empty gun back on a job.”

“What if you shoot me as I leave?”

“I won’t shoot you?!”

“How do I know that?” He said he needed the jewels. He has debts to pay. I bet you he’s desperate and will take the shot as I turn to leave.

He sighs again, absolutely exasperated. He puts out his black-gloved hand, presenting his pinky finger.

“A pinky promise?”

“Yes.”

Oh my soul. Can this get any worse?

“Okay, wait. I will take out my gun at the same time I give you back yours. That way, if you shoot me, I can shoot you back.”

“You have your own gun? Then why did you take mine?”

“Because I always wanted a Glock 17? No—by the time I would have drawn my gun, you could have shot me as I reached for it. So I took your gun.”

“You’re very sarcastic. I prefer the pinky promise. You're making this too complicated. I won’t shoot you—you’re too pretty.”

My palm slams into my forehead. This damn idiot.

“You are flirting at a time like this? That won’t help you.”

“I like my girls feisty.”

The ammunition feels heavy in my hand. And my gun presses behind my back. I can just shoot him and leave, but then again, I said I did not want to leave my bullets to be found. Moreover, this idiot does not deserve to die.

I stretch out my pinky to him wearily. He shakes it. I give him his ammo.

“Bon voyage, monsieur.” As I pick up the bag, I give him a diamond bracelet.

He reaches into his jacket and pulls out a slim, flat object.

“We should do this again sometime, madame.” He takes the bracelet and I take his card.

“Your smile is prettier than any of these diamonds,” he adds. I might not have been arrested tonight, but I got into other types of trouble.

“Maybe you can come and visit me in Italy when your debts are paid off.”

“It’s a deal,” he says with a charming smile. More precious than any of the jewels in here.