At the engagement banquet, during the exchange of tokens, Laurence Morton did it right in front of everyone.
He placed the Morton family heirloom jade pendant—the one that was supposed to belong to the bride—around his assistant Camille Harding's neck.
The guests exchanged uneasy glances, their eyes drifting toward me with pity.
Laurence pinched Camille's cheek, his tone careless and indulgent.
"It's not like you could produce anything of equal value anyway. Let's just skip this part."
"The poor girl's been having nightmares lately. The pendant will keep her safe and bring her peace."
"And stop making that miserable face. I'm already marrying you. What more could you possibly want? Don't be greedy."
Camille clung to his arm, beaming with satisfaction.
The Morton family pendants were traditionally a matched pair—one for husband, one for wife.
The spotlight fell on my bare neck like a slap across the face.
I smiled, then burned the share-transfer deed I'd prepared as my gift to him, right there on the spot.
"You're right. I shouldn't be greedy."
"So your fiancé? I'll throw him in as a gift for her too."
——
Silence swallowed the room. The only sound was paper curling in the flames.
Laurence's brow darkened with displeasure.
"Gillian Wiley, it's just a pendant. Do you really have to be this petty?"
"Stop making a scene. Finish the ceremony like a good girl, and I'll pretend you didn't just run your mouth. I'll forgive you."
I looked at him—that lofty expression, those eyes dripping with condescension, as if everything he offered was charity.
Revulsion coiled in my gut. I wrenched my hand free of his.
"Does Mr. Morton not understand plain English?"
"Then let me spell it out. The engagement is off. We're done."
The air pulled taut.
Camille walked over with a smile, playing peacemaker.
"Gillian, he's just worried about my health. Don't blame him."
She pressed something into my hand, forcing my fingers around it.
"Here—as compensation. I had someone make a matching one just for you."
"But I'm not like you, living off a man's wallet. Real jade was too expensive for me, so I had to make do with a beer bottle. I hope you won't mind."
I'd coordinated my gown with Laurence's suit for today—matching colors, as couples do at their engagement.
The joke was that Camille's gown was identical to mine.
The day I'd ordered it, only Laurence and I had been there.
He must have told her. He must have gone out and bought her the exact same one.
Now the two of them stood side by side in their matching outfits, wearing the paired heirloom pendants that symbolized husband and wife, looking for all the world like the real couple of the evening.
And I was the fool.
I seized the red cord around Camille's neck and yanked her toward me, my voice cold as a blade.
"Rotten men don't interest me, Camille. Never have. If you enjoy picking through the garbage, he's all yours."
"But you had the nerve to provoke me to my face. So I think I'll take my payback now. How about I use this little 'compensation' of yours to carve a line across that pretty cheek?"
The edges of the beer-bottle knockoff were razor-sharp. One careless touch could slice skin.
Scheming down to the last detail.
Camille's face drained of color. Her eyes glistened, and she turned to Laurence with a trembling lip.
"Laurence, look at her... I'm so scared..."
Pain shot through my wrist, forcing me to let go.
Laurence pulled Camille behind him and shoved me back.
"Camille didn't say anything wrong. What gives you the right to touch her? I skipped the token exchange to save YOUR face!"
"The Morton heirloom pendant is worth a fortune. You're a freeloader—a parasite who can't survive without me. What could you possibly offer in return? Learn to be grateful!"
"And don't think I don't know what you burned. Those scraps of paper were your little wish list, weren't they? Your demands for the wedding gifts? What's the matter—even you realized how greedy it looked, so you were too embarrassed to let anyone see?"
