Chapter 4

Ethan' s eyes flicked down to where Sarah' s hand rested on her purse, but he didn't register the watch box. He was too focused on her defiance.

"Not in our circles?" Ethan laughed, a harsh, barking sound. "Honey, there aren't many circles above ours in this town, not anymore."

Brittany, however, with her magpie-like attraction to shiny things, noticed the edge of the dark, expensive-looking box.

Her eyes narrowed. "What's that you're hiding, Sarah? Did you steal something?"

Sarah instinctively pulled her purse closer. "It's a gift. For my husband."

Brittany lunged, surprisingly fast, and snatched at Sarah's purse.

"Let me see!"

The purse strap dug into Sarah's shoulder, but Brittany's grip was strong. The clasp gave way, and the contents spilled onto the floor – her wallet, keys, a lipstick, and the velvet watch box.

The box popped open upon impact, revealing the gleaming gold Patek Philippe nestled on its satin bed.

For a moment, there was silence.

Even Ethan looked surprised by the obvious expense of the timepiece.

Brittany was the first to recover. She picked up the watch, her eyes wide with a mixture of greed and disbelief.

"My God," she breathed. "This... this looks real. This is a serious watch."

Ethan stared at it, then at Sarah, his expression shifting from arrogance to suspicion.

"Where did you get that, Sarah?" he demanded, his voice hard.

"I told you," Sarah said, her voice trembling slightly as she gathered her scattered belongings, "it's a gift for my husband."

"Your husband?" Ethan sneered. "What kind of man would you be married to who could afford something like this? And more importantly, what kind of man like that would marry you?"

"He must be very old," Brittany chimed in, turning the watch over in her hands. "And probably senile, if he let you get your hands on his credit card for this."

"Or," Ethan said, a dark look coming over his face, "she stole it."

Sarah's head snapped up. "I did not steal it!"

"Oh, really?" Ethan advanced on her. "Then prove it. Who is this mysterious, wealthy husband of yours? What's his name? Where does he work? Let's call him right now."

The other shoppers in the small bookstore were starting to stare, drawn by the commotion.

Sarah felt a flush of embarrassment and anger.

"I don't have to prove anything to you, Ethan."

"No, I guess you don't," he said smoothly. "Because you can't. This watch is clearly stolen. You probably lifted it from a customer at that pathetic library, or maybe you've taken up shoplifting in your desperation."

"Give it back, Brittany," Sarah demanded, reaching for the watch. "It's very valuable."

Brittany smirked, holding it just out of reach. "Valuable, huh? I'll bet. Maybe we should call the police and let them figure out who it belongs to."

"Or," Ethan said, his eyes glinting, "maybe we should teach you a lesson about stealing things that don't belong to you. And about lying."

He grabbed Sarah's arm, his fingers digging into her flesh like talons.

"You always were a pathetic liar, Sarah."

Fear, cold and sharp, pierced through Sarah's anger.

This was escalating far beyond mockery. Ethan looked genuinely enraged, his arrogance curdling into something much uglier.

The other customers were whispering, some looking concerned, others simply curious. No one stepped forward.

"Let go of me, Ethan," Sarah said, trying to pull her arm free.

His grip only tightened. "Not until you tell us the truth. Where did you get the watch, thief?"