I Was Just A Silent Wife, Until I Toppled His Empire

The emerald lay against her throat like a bruise.

It was a deep, vibrant green, the color of old moss and envy, suspended on a platinum chain that caught the recessed lighting of the penthouse living room. I knew that stone. I knew the weight of it. I knew the specific imperfection on the back of the setting, a tiny scratch made by my father's pocketknife the day he gave it to my mother before his second deployment.

"It brings out your eyes, Seraphina," Julian said.

His voice was a low hum, a sound that used to vibrate against my own chest in the dark. Now, it was directed entirely at the woman sitting on the velvet ottoman, her chin tilted up, exposing the long, pale column of her neck.

I stood in the shadow of the hallway, my hand gripping the cold plaster of the wall. My fingers were numb. Not the kind of numbness that comes from cold, but the kind that comes from a lack of blood flow, as if my heart had simply decided it was too tired to pump all the way to the extremities.

Seraphina Frost laughed. It was a practiced sound, light and airy, designed to make men feel witty and powerful. She touched the stone with a manicured fingertip.

"It's exquisite, Julian," she cooed. "Are you sure? It looks… heavy with history."

"It was just gathering dust in a safe," Julian said, his back to me. He adjusted the clasp at the nape of her neck, his fingers lingering on her skin. "It deserves to be worn by someone who shines."

My stomach contracted, a violent, physical spasm that nearly bent me double. That necklace wasn't gathering dust. It was the only thing I had brought into this marriage. It was the only thing I had left of Mary Sterling, the woman who had stitched wounds in a burning tent in Aleppo while shrapnel rained down.

I stepped out of the shadows.

"Julian."

The name tasted like ash.

He didn't startle. He turned slowly, his expression shifting from adoration to a weary annoyance that hit me harder than a slap. It was the look one gives a persistent solicitor or a dog that won't stop whining.

"Jade," he said. "I didn't hear you come in. We're busy."

"That necklace," I said. My voice was steady, too steady. It was the voice of a soldier reporting a casualty count. "It's my mother's."

Seraphina turned, her eyes wide with a feigned innocence that made my teeth ache. "Oh! Jade. I didn't know. Julian said it was a family heirloom."

"It is," I said, walking further into the room. The carpet swallowed the sound of my footsteps. "My family. Not the Vanderbilts."

Julian sighed, running a hand through his perfectly styled hair. "Don't start this, Jade. Not tonight. We have the gala tomorrow. Seraphina needs something to wear that matches the brand image. You know you don't wear jewelry like this. You'd just… look awkward."