Chapter 1
The Patek Philippe box was empty.
A faint circular indentation remained on the black velvet tray.
That watch was worth 6 million dollars. My grandmother left it to me, and there were only three like it in the entire world.
I pulled up the living room security footage.
The timestamp showed 2:17 PM yesterday.
David Hanley, my husband, opened the safe, took out the watch box, and placed the watch inside a Tiffany Blue gift bag.
Just before he walked out the door with the bag, he glanced down at his phone.
The contact name on the screen was Madeline Stone.
I took a screenshot of the footage and saved it to my encrypted folder.
Then I opened my contacts and called the number labeled "Attorney Claire."
The phone rang twice before Claire picked up.
"Charlotte? It's pretty late," she said.
"Claire, I have a legal question. What's the legal standing if one spouse disposes of the other's separate pre-marital property without consent?" I asked.
There was a three-second pause on her end.
"What's the value?"
"Twenty million."
Another, longer silence.
"Don't do anything rash yet. Gather all the proof of ownership, purchase receipts, and authentication certificates. Keep that footage safe. Don't delete it before you talk to me."
"They're all in my family's safe."
"Good." Claire's voice steadied. "Charlotte, I need to warn you about something. If he claims he gave it to a third party, you can demand it back. But if he says it was a loan, things get more complicated."
"Understood."
I hung up and sat on the bedroom window seat, hugging my knees for a long time.
The door lock clicked.
David was home.
At 11:40 PM, he walked in wearing his dark gray Hugo Boss blazer, his leather shoes speckled with rain.
I caught a whiff of alcohol and a faint, lingering scent of women's perfume.
It wasn't the one I used.
"Still awake?" He tossed his car keys on the entryway table.
I watched him. "Where's the watch that was in the safe?"
His movement faltered.
It was so quick, less than a second, but I noticed.
"Oh, that," he said, opening the fridge and grabbing a bottle of water. "I lent it to Director Stone for a couple of days."
He used the word "lent."
"Lent?" I asked.
"She has an investor dinner the day after tomorrow and needed something to impress." He twisted the cap off and took a long gulp. "She's overseeing a one-hundred-million-dollar real estate project, and she specifically wants to work with us.
"Charlotte, you know what landing this deal would mean for the company."
My nails dug into my palms.
"That watch was my grandmother's," I said.
"I know that. It's not like I gave it away." He put the water down and finally looked at me. "Two days, maybe three, then I'll get it back. What's the big deal?"
He stepped closer, reaching out to pat my head.
I stepped back.
His hand froze in mid-air.
"Charlotte, don't be so dramatic," he said.
He called me "dramatic."
His words hit a nerve.
"Did you even think to ask me before touching my things?" I asked.
"I called you yesterday, but you didn't pick up," he replied.
I checked my phone. There were no missed calls between 2:00 and 3:00 PM yesterday. Not even one.
"David," I turned the screen toward him. "You didn't call."
He glanced at it, his expression unchanging. "Must have gotten it mixed up. Like I said, it's just for a couple of days. Don't make a scene."
I couldn't believe he had the nerve to say that.
I didn't say another word.
He showered, collapsed into bed, and was snoring within three minutes.
A deep, even sound, as if nothing had happened.
I lay beside him, staring at the ceiling, eyes wide open.
At 1:30 AM, his phone buzzed on the nightstand.
The screen lit up.
I turned my head.
Madeline: [The watch is gorgeous. Thank you so much]
She only thanked David.
It was not even "Thank you, Mr. David" or "Thanks for the company's support."
She sounded like they were close.
And there was a heart emoji.
I didn't touch David's phone.
But I opened mine and went to Madeline's Instagram.
Her latest post was from twenty-three minutes ago.
It was a carousel of nine photos.
The first showed a woman's wrist against a black velvet table mat, and on that wrist was a watch I knew intimately.
Patek Philippe 7130R. Rose gold case. Diamond-paved dial.
My grandfather had a master watchmaker custom-make this for my grandmother's seventieth birthday. One of only three in the world, serial number 003.
Etched on the back of the case was a line. "To my only star."
The caption had only four words. [Heart skipped a beat.]
She got 247 likes and 36 comments.
I screenshot that post too.
Then I turned off my phone and closed my eyes.
The man beside me shifted in his sleep, draping his arm across my waist.
It felt so heavy, like a chain.