Every stone tells the truth. Only the people lie. Kavya Sethia has two years of silence, one dead career and a stall under an arch in Johari Bazaar, with a sign that says NO FEE IF STONE IS GENUINE. Nobody in Jaipur reads it anymore. The city remembers the spinel she certified, and the dealers who laughed when it turned out to be glass. Then a dying man sends his driver to her stall with an impossible offer: one night, one stone, and the name of the person who ruined her. The stone is the Sawai Spinel, and it will be sold at the most guarded auction Rajasthan has seen in fifty years. Kavya has twenty-three days, an old locksmith, a registrar with a grudge, a drone pilot who never stops joking, and a cutter who can hardly speak. Against them stand a private army, a collector's office and a police officer who has been watching Kavya since the first day. Everyone on this crew is lying about something. So is the man who hired them. The auction is on a Friday. Dussehra is the next night.