Chapter 8
Deliah focused entirely on Irina's wrist. The world narrowed down to that circle of platinum and light.
It was the exact same pink diamond tennis bracelet. The setting was identical. The clasp was identical.
The one Jere said was "one of a kind." The one he claimed the duplicate was for his mother.
Irina twisted her wrist, admiring the way the diamonds caught the light. "Jere, it's beautiful... but are you sure? It looks so expensive. Does... does Deliah have one too? I don't want to cause trouble."
Her voice was soft, laced with a delicate, practiced insecurity. It was the voice of a woman who wanted to be reassured that she was special, while pretending to care about the wife she was replacing.
Jere sighed, shifting slightly on the couch. "Don't start, Irina. It's for protection. It has a tracker inside. Both of them do. I need to know you're safe."
Deliah didn't hear the part about the tracker. Or maybe she did, and it didn't matter. What she saw was the symbol of possession. He had branded them both. He had given the mistress the same token of affection he had given the wife.
A sound escaped her throat-a choked, strangled sob that she couldn't suppress.
Inside the room, Jere stiffened. "Did you hear that?"
Deliah panicked. She stepped back from the door.
She looked down at her own wrist. The bracelet sat there, heavy, glittering, mocking her. It felt like a shackle. It felt like a lie burned into her skin.
A wave of nausea and blind, white-hot rage overtook her.
She clawed at the clasp. Her fingers were slippery with sweat and rain. She couldn't get it open.
"Get it off," she whispered frantically. "Get it off."
She hooked her finger under the platinum chain and pulled. She pulled with everything she had, scratching her skin, drawing blood.
With a primal yank, the delicate metal gave way. Snap.
The bracelet broke. Diamonds scattered onto the hard tile of the hospital hallway floor with a soft skittering sound, like hail hitting a window.
The sound was distinct in the quiet corridor. It was the sound of a marriage ending.
Jere stood up inside the room. "Who's there?"
Deliah dropped the broken remains of the chain. She didn't care about the money. She didn't care about the diamonds.
She turned and sprinted down the hallway.
She heard the door to Suite 1302 fly open.
"Hello?" Jere's voice called out, sharp and alarmed.
Deliah dove into the stairwell door just as Jere stepped into the hall. She let the heavy fire door slam shut behind her.
She ran down the stairs. Flight after flight. Her lungs burned. Her legs shook. Tears blurred her vision, making the concrete steps swim.
The bracelet was the final proof. There was no "mother." There was no "business." There was only him, her, and the family he chose.
She reached the ground floor and burst out the emergency exit. The cold night air hit her face, stinging her wet cheeks.
She realized she had left the diamonds on the floor. She had left the evidence behind.
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