Chapter 4

By the day of the Mercer Foundation gala, my father could take a few steps with the help of a physical therapist.

I had not planned to attend.

Then the foundation secretary called to remind me that my signature was required on the annual financial certification. Some of my mother's estate had been routed through the family office into foundation accounts, and on paper, I was still a co-supervisor.

That was probably the only reason Adrian had not removed me from the guest list altogether.

The gala had already begun when I arrived at the hotel.

Adrian was standing near the entrance. The moment he saw me, he walked over. His eyes dropped to my bare ring finger and stayed there for two seconds.

"Where's your wedding ring?"

"I sold it."

His face changed instantly. "You sold our wedding ring?"

"My father needed a rehab deposit."

"I told you my assistant would pay it."

"He didn't call me back until four in the afternoon."

Adrian stared at me as if he genuinely could not understand why I had failed to wait a few more hours.

"You should have told me first."

"You didn't tell me before you moved two hundred fifty thousand dollars of my mother's money."

Someone passed close by. Adrian lowered his voice.

"There are reporters and donors here tonight. This is not the place to discuss our marriage. Sign the paperwork, and I'll go home with you afterward so we can go through everything."

"Home to which room?"

His expression froze for a moment.

"Sloane is stable now. Give me a few more days."

A few more days.

Again.

Applause rose from the ballroom.

Adrian's mother was entering from the other side with Sloane on her arm, as if Sloane were the woman who belonged beside the Mercer family tonight.

Sloane wore a dark green gown with her hair pinned up. Around her right wrist was an antique diamond bracelet.

My mother's bracelet.

Before my mother died, she gave it to me and told me that if I ever had a daughter, I could pass it on to her. I kept it in the back of the jewelry box in our master closet and had never worn it in public.

Last Christmas, Sloane saw it while she was in the closet. She asked why I never wore it. I told her it was one of the last things my mother had left me, and I was saving it for a truly important family occasion.

Now, when she saw me enter the ballroom, the smile on her face faltered.

Then she lifted her right hand to adjust her hair, making sure the bracelet caught the light.

Only after she knew I had seen it did she lower her arm.

I walked straight toward her.

"Take off the bracelet."

Adrian's mother frowned. "Laurel, people are watching."

"That belonged to my mother."

Sloane did not immediately reach for the clasp. Her fingertip drifted slowly over the diamonds.

"Adrian put it on me himself," she said softly. "He said my dress needed a piece of family jewelry."

"Last Christmas, I told you who it belonged to."

She looked at me. "I thought you wouldn't mind. I've never seen you wear it."

"I'm telling you now. I mind."

Only then did she look down and try to open the clasp. After two attempts, her fingers started shaking.

Adrian caught her wrist. "Don't rush. I'll do it."

"Give it back to me now."

He looked up at me, his voice low. "She's taking it off. Stop pressuring her."

I did not move closer. I simply held out my hand.

"She is wearing my dead mother's bracelet while sitting beside my husband. I am asking her to give it back."

Several people nearby went quiet.

Sloane stopped trying to open the clasp.

She glanced at the guests gathering around us, then at Adrian. Her fingers caught his sleeve. Her breathing suddenly quickened, and the color drained from her face.

"I can't breathe."

Adrian immediately steadied her. "Sloane, look at me."

She shook her head as tears began to fall. "I thought you didn't want it anymore. Laurel, I wasn't trying to take anything from you."

Adrian finally opened the bracelet.

But instead of handing it to me, he slipped it into the inside pocket of his suit jacket.

"I'll give it to you later," he said. "Let her calm down first."

"That belonged to my mother."

"I know." He looked at me, and there was no apology in his eyes, only a warning. "But you didn't have to trigger an episode in front of everyone just to get a bracelet back."

The host called Adrian and Sloane to the stage and announced that the trauma recovery center had secured its first round of funding.

The applause started again.

Adrian guided Sloane past me. As he went by, he leaned close enough to murmur, "Wait for me. Don't upset her again."

Photos from the fireworks night appeared on the screen behind the stage.

In one, Adrian stood behind Sloane while her name lit up the sky. The host introduced them as "the two founders who made this project possible."

No one mentioned where the $250,000 had come from.

I sat alone at Table Twelve, opened the financial certification packet, and photographed every page connected to the transfer and the account restriction.

Ten minutes later, Adrian texted me.

"Sloane isn't doing well in the lounge. I'm taking her home first. Sign the papers and have the driver bring you back."

I stared at the message for a long time.

Then I typed two words.

"No need."

I sent the photographs, bank records, and seating chart to a family attorney.

"Your earliest appointment tomorrow," I wrote. "I want to file for legal separation."