I breathed in, slow and steady. Then spoke.
“I’d like to schedule a wedding shoot. A pre-nup session.”
“Of course, ma’am. May I ask the name of the bride and the groom?”
I paused.
Then smiled softly to myself.
“There is no groom,” I said. “Just the bride. Me. Alone.”
Because I was finally choosing myself.
The necklace was gone.
I checked the drawer again, hands trembling. I sifted through scarves, opened every little pouch and box. Nothing. My chest began to tighten, panic seeping in like cold water.
No. No, no—it had to be here.
I turned the whole vanity upside down. And then it hit me.
Kier.
I rushed out of the bedroom, still in my robe, feet bare against the cold floor, and found him at the dining table, sipping his usual black coffee, flipping through files as if the world didn’t just tilt on its axis.
“Kier,” I said, my voice already breaking, “where’s my necklace? The silver one with the black stone. The one in the velvet box.”
He didn’t even glance up. “Oh, that? Gave it to Camille. Looked great on her. She’s wearing it in Paris.”
I blinked. “You gave it to Camille?”
“Yeah. Relax.” He flipped a page. “You weren’t using it.”