"I never even touched it!"
Anthony rose and walked toward me, slow and deliberate.
He picked up the necklace, studied it, then looked at me.
That look—cold, flat, utterly done.
"Layla, when did you sink this low? If you needed money, you could've asked. Stealing?"
"I didn't!" The scream ripped out of me. "She planted it! The case was sitting there the whole time—I never moved!"
Audrey cowered behind Anthony, tears streaming prettily down her cheeks.
"Layla, if you liked it that much, I would've given it to you. Why steal? If word gets out, Anthony's reputation…"
Anthony's eyes slid shut. Patience gone.
"Sticky fingers. No use keeping you."
He flicked his wrist. Two guards seized my arms, one on each side, and slammed my hands flat against the table.
Anthony grabbed a wine bottle by the neck.
"If these hands can't make music—if all they know how to do is steal—then let's get rid of them."
My eyes went wide, locked on the bottle rising above me.
"Anthony! You can't do this! I was the one who sold my violin to help fund your startup—did you forget?!"
"Shut up!"
His roar shook the room. "Even now you're lying! You were the one who chased money, took it, and ran off with some other man!"