On the day of her birthday, I opened the safe to retrieve the jewel—but it was gone. Coincidentally, Alexander’s assistant posted again on Instagram, showing off her “new gift”: "There are no stars in the rainy season, but there is a sky full of stars from you." The color of the jewel on her necklace was nearly identical to the one I bought. In the photo, she leaned against a man’s arms, with only his chin visible, but I recognized him immediately—Alexander, his razor mark from that morning still evident.
That morning, he kissed me and said, "Honey, wait for me tonight for Mom's birthday party." Then, he left, leaving me curious.
A 60-carat, top-quality sapphire had been cut into more than thirty pieces and set into a trendy style, perfectly suited for young women. Naturally, the value plummeted from hundreds of millions to just a few million. I smiled faintly. Only my love-blinded husband could have done something so foolish.
Alexander frowned at me. "I took the gem out of the safe, and you called the police immediately without asking a single question. Did you do that on purpose?"