Chapter 4

I didn't wait for her response. I went back upstairs with a purpose. I was done. I was leaving for good.

I pulled out my suitcases and started packing, not just the clothes I'd taken out yesterday, but everything. All my books, my photos, the few things I had left that felt like mine.

Then I went to my jewelry box. I was looking for one thing: a delicate gold necklace with a small, unique charm. It was a custom piece my mother had designed for me before she passed away. It was the most precious thing I owned.

It wasn't there.

My heart started to pound. I emptied the entire jewelry box onto the bed, sifting through every piece. It was gone.

I searched the drawers, the closet, under the bed. A cold dread spread through me. There was only one other person who had been in this room.

I stormed downstairs. Cyrus and Falon were in the living room, talking quietly. They stopped when they saw me.

"Where is it?" I demanded, my eyes fixed on Falon.

"Where is what, Kelsey?" Cyrus asked, annoyed. "Calm down."

"My necklace," I said, my voice shaking with rage. "The gold one with the charm my mother designed. Where is it, Falon?"

And then I saw it.

Tucked just inside the collar of her maternity blouse, I saw the glint of gold. It was my necklace. She was wearing my mother's necklace.

"You," I whispered. "You thief."

I lunged for her, but Cyrus stepped between us, grabbing my shoulders. "Kelsey, stop! What is wrong with you?"

"She's wearing my necklace!" I screamed, struggling against him. "Look! She's wearing it right now! Make her give it back!"

Falon started to cry. "I don't know what you're talking about! Cyrus bought this for me! He said I deserved something pretty to cheer me up." She clutched the necklace protectively. "He said it was just something he picked up, a little trinket."

"You're lying!" I yelled. "My mother designed that charm. There isn't another one like it in the world. It has her initials, 'E.P.', engraved on the back."

Cyrus looked from me to a crying Falon, his face a mask of confusion and frustration.

"Falon, just let her see it," he said, his voice strained.

"But it's mine! You gave it to me!" she wailed.

"She's not going to take it," Cyrus said, clearly believing his own lie. "She just wants to look. Then I'll buy her another one. I'll buy you ten necklaces, Kelsey, just drop it!"

He still didn't get it. It wasn't about the money. It was about her, touching my mother's memory with her filthy hands.

Falon slowly, reluctantly, unclasped the necklace. Her hand was shaking. She held it out, but just as I reached for it, her fingers "slipped."

The necklace fell to the hardwood floor. The delicate charm, the one my mother had drawn on a napkin in a diner, snapped off the chain and broke into two perfect halves.

The sound was louder than a gunshot in the silent room.

For a moment, nobody moved. We all just stared at the broken pieces on the floor.

Then, I looked up at Falon. She had a tiny, triumphant smirk on her face. She had done it on purpose.

I saw red.

I broke free from Cyrus's grip and slapped her across the face. The sound echoed in the room.

Falon gasped, her hand flying to her cheek, her eyes wide with shock.

Before I could even process what I'd done, Cyrus spun me around and slapped me.

Hard.

The force of it sent me stumbling back. My cheek stung, my ears rang. The shock was a cold wave washing over me. My husband had just hit me. For her.

"Don't you ever," he seethed, his face inches from mine, "touch her again. A broken piece of cheap jewelry is not more important than her or my child."

My child. Not his brother's child. My child.

I looked at him, really looked at him, and I saw a stranger. The man I married was gone. Maybe he was never there at all.

I touched my stinging cheek. Then I looked down at the broken pieces of my mother's love on the floor.

"We're done, Cyrus," I said, my voice hollow. "This is over."