Chapter 4

Julian's mother, the Ashworth matriarch, had arranged for one final, perfunctory meeting at a local lawyer's office to sign the last documents.

It was, I suspected, more for her peace of mind, a formal severing.

She was there, radiating disapproval.

Julian was not.

"Julian sends his... regrets," Mrs. Ashworth said, without a hint of actual regret in her voice.

"He's otherwise engaged with Veronica."

"Planning their future."

She pushed a small, velvet box across the polished table.

"A family heirloom," she stated.

"Julian thought you should have it."

"A... token."

I opened it.

A delicate, antique gold locket.

Pretty, but not exceptionally valuable.

I recognized it from my first life.

It was a piece Julian had once dismissed as insignificant, something his grandmother had picked up on a whim, not part of the main Ashworth jewels.

He'd given it to Veronica's younger, less favored cousin once, who'd promptly lost it.

Now, it was a discarded offering to me.

A token of their desire to be rid of me, more like.

In my first life, I might have seen sentiment.

Now, I saw calculation.

A final, dismissive gesture.

"How thoughtful," I said, my voice neutral.

Mrs. Ashworth looked faintly surprised I didn't gush or refuse.

"It's best this way, Elara," she said, her tone softening almost imperceptibly, perhaps a flicker of something that might one day become regret.

"You're not... suited to our world."

"And Julian needs to be with his own kind."

"I understand perfectly," I replied.

I signed the papers.

The lawyer, a man with a face like a well-worn briefcase, notarized them with brisk efficiency.

I took the locket.

Not for its sentiment, but as a final piece of their world I would carry, only to discard later when it suited me.

It was a symbol of their insincerity, and my acceptance was a strategic move.

It closed this chapter.

It got me on the plane.

As I left the office, I saw Julian's car parked down the street.

He was in the passenger seat.

Veronica was driving.

They were laughing about something.

He didn't even look my way.

Good.

The locket felt cold in my hand.

It wasn't a link to a past I cherished, but a reminder of a future I was escaping.

I would sell it in London.

The money would buy textbooks.