The room temperature dropped. Not literally, but I felt it in the way two associates near the door exchanged a glance and found somewhere else to look. Penelope had just announced, in a room full of people who understood the significance of symbols, that whatever token bound me to the Don had been discarded like garbage.
I watched Dominic subtly move his hand to cover his wrist, but I pretended not to notice. Keeping my voice calm, I replied, "These bracelets are pretty common. If you like it, I can give this one to you."
Penelope didn't respond.
When I walked out of the room, the man at the door stepped aside again. This time he didn't look at me at all.
I headed straight for the nearest trash can and threw away the bracelet. I'd worn it for the past seven years, but it no longer meant anything. Just trash. The red thread hit the bottom of the bin with no sound at all, which seemed right. Seven years should make a louder noise when they end, but they don't. They just stop.
I turned to the elevator, and while waiting, my phone buzzed. It was my mother calling. "Did you buy your ticket home yet?" she asked.
"Not yet," I replied, my voice steady. "I'll book it in a few days."