Chapter 2 The Broken Necklace

Juston's cigar slipped from his fingers, dropping onto the glass table with a dull thud.

Panic flashed across his features, fast and ugly, before he scrambled to paste on his usual charming smile. He stood up, smoothing the front of his tailored suit.

"Addie, baby," Juston said, taking a step toward her. His voice was coated in fake honey. "What are you doing here? You heard all that out of context. The guys were just messing around."

Adela raised her free hand. Just an inch.

It was a small movement, but it carried enough absolute rejection to make Juston stop dead in his tracks.

She didn't look at Brock. She didn't look at the other men shifting uncomfortably in their seats. She kept her dead, flat gaze entirely on Juston.

She lifted the black velvet box into the light.

Juston's eyes flicked to the box. He swallowed hard. He knew what it was. She had talked about it for weeks, her fingers covered in tiny cuts from working the raw stone.

"Addie, come on," Juston lowered his voice, trying to sound authoritative and gentle at the same time. "Don't do this here. Let's go outside and talk."

Adela popped the lid open.

The obsidian necklace rested on the white satin. It caught the low light of the chandelier, gleaming with a dark, heavy beauty.

"I spent three months on this," Adela said. Her voice wasn't loud. It didn't shake. It cut through the silent room like a scalpel. "I sourced the rarest obsidian. I polished every single bead with my own hands."

Juston's jaw tightened. He looked around at his friends, his embarrassment quickly morphing into irritation.

Adela held his gaze. "You said it was garbage."

"Adela-"

"You said I was stupid," she continued, her voice dropping a fraction of a degree colder. "You said I was obedient."

She took a slow step into the room.

"You said I was a pawn."

Juston's face flushed a deep, angry red. The mask was slipping. His pride was bleeding out onto the floor in front of his audience.

Adela smiled. It was a terrifying, hollow thing that didn't reach her eyes.

"You were right about one thing, Juston," she whispered.

She reached into the box and pulled the necklace out. She wrapped the heavy silver chain around her fists.

"I am done being obedient."

With a final, desperate surge of strength, she pulled her hands apart.

Snap.

A sharp snap echoed in the silent room as the delicate silver clasp gave way, the sound sharp and final.

The heavy obsidian beads exploded outward. They rained down on the floor like black hail, bouncing off the glass table, rolling across the Persian rug. One heavy bead struck Juston's expensive leather shoe and spun away into the corner.

Juston stared at the broken chain in her hands, his mouth slightly open. He had never seen her like this. He expected tears. He expected begging.

Adela tossed the broken chain and the empty velvet box directly at his feet.

"We are done," Adela said. The ice in her chest was spreading to her vocal cords. "Do not ever speak to me again."

She turned on her heel. She didn't wait for a response. She walked out the door, her spine rigid, her shoulders pulled back.

The silence in the Peacock Room shattered the second she was in the hallway.

"Adela Richmond!" Juston roared, his voice cracking with humiliated rage. He stormed toward the door. "You walk out that door, you don't come back! You are nothing without the Richmond name! Nothing!"

Adela didn't break her stride.

"Let her go," Juston spat to his friends, loud enough for her to hear. "Give it three days. The second her daddy cuts off her credit cards, she'll be crawling back on her knees."

"Yeah, man," Brock chimed in, eager to soothe Juston's bruised ego. "She wouldn't last a day in the real world."

Adela walked faster. The adrenaline that had kept her entirely numb was crashing.

Her chest burned. Her vision began to swim as the tears she had fought so hard to hold back finally flooded her eyes. The dim hallway blurred into streaks of gold and brown.

She just needed to get to the exit. She needed fresh air.

She rounded the corner toward the lobby, her vision completely obscured by hot tears.

She didn't see the long leg stretched out from the leather sofa in the shadows.

Her heel caught hard against a solid dress shoe.