Chapter 4

Aunt Carol squeezed my hand. "Don't you worry about me, Sarah. I'm tougher than I look."

Her eyes, though, searched mine. "But what about you, dear? You look... tired. Is everything alright with you and Mark?"

I forced a smile. "Everything's fine, Aunt Carol. Just stressed with work."

I couldn't burden her with my marital problems, not now. My pain was mine to carry, at least for now. I had to protect her from any more distress.

She gave me a knowing look but didn't press.

We talked for a while. I gave her the camellia and the book I' d brought.

"Oh, Sarah, you shouldn't have," she said, but her eyes lit up. "Though this camellia is lovely. And I' ve been wanting to read this!"

She then gently chided me for spending money. I knew she worried about my finances, especially since Mark controlled most of our joint accounts for his "career investments."

I went to the hospital cafeteria and got her some soup and a roll. She ate slowly, but her color started to return.

As I helped her adjust her pillows, she watched me, a thoughtful expression on her face. I knew she suspected something was deeply wrong.

The next morning, I helped Aunt Carol get discharged and settled her back in her cozy little house. Before I left to drive back to the city, she hugged me tight.

"Call me if you need anything, Sarah. Anything at all."

Back at the apartment, Mark was out. Probably with Jessica. I noticed something immediately. My mother' s antique silver locket, the one she' d given me before she passed, was missing from my jewelry box. And a few other small, sentimental pieces.

My blood ran cold. Mark wouldn't. Would he?

Then I saw it – a receipt from a high-end pawn shop on Mark' s desk, dated two days ago. The amount was significant.

He had pawned my mother's locket. My things. For money. Probably for Jessica.

Shock warred with a furious, burning anger. This wasn't just betrayal anymore. This was theft. Desecration.

I didn't even think. I grabbed my keys and drove to the city building where Mark worked. I knew Jessica had a temporary cubicle there.

I stormed to the receptionist. "Jessica Evans. What floor is she on?"

The receptionist, startled by my tone, stammered, "Uh, 23rd floor, but Mr. Thompson said she' s in a meeting..."

I was already heading for the elevator, my mind a whirl of rage and determination. I had to confront her. I had to confront them.

I found Jessica' s cubicle. It was empty. Then I heard voices from a nearby conference room, the door slightly ajar. Mark' s voice, and Jessica' s.

I pushed the door open.

They were standing close, looking at some architectural plans spread on the table. Mark' s arm was around Jessica' s waist. And on Jessica' s neck, gleaming against her skin, was my mother' s silver locket.

The sight punched the air from my lungs. Rage, pure and absolute, flooded me.

I didn't say a word. I strode towards them.

Mark looked up, his eyes widening in surprise, then narrowing in annoyance when he saw my face.

"Sarah! What are you doing here?" he demanded, his hand immediately dropping from Jessica' s waist, though he stayed protectively close to her.