The air inside the jewelry store was perfumed and chilled to a temperature that kept the clientele awake and the diamonds sparkling.
The store manager, a man in a suit so expensive it hummed with tailored arrogance, bowed slightly as they entered.
"Ms. Solomon," he greeted them. "Please, follow me to the VIP suite."
He led them past glass cases filled with jewels that could feed a small country. They entered a private room at the back, enclosed by frosted glass walls.
A tray of sparkling water was waiting.
"Our client instructed us to show you the investment collection," the manager said, clasping his hands.
Azalea choked on her water. She coughed, slamming the glass down. "Investment? Who is buying?"
Eliza froze. Dallas moved fast. Too fast.
"It's... a portfolio diversification," Eliza lied, grasping at the first thing that came to her mind. "Diamonds hold value."
Azalea looked skeptical, crossing her arms. "Since when do you care about investment portfolios?"
"Since I decided to stop being poor," Eliza snapped back, a little too defensively.
"Fair enough," Azalea shrugged, her attention quickly distracted by a massive 5-carat emerald cut diamond sitting on a velvet pillow.
Eliza picked up a ring. It was a vintage setting, platinum with a solitaire diamond. She slid it onto her finger.
It fit perfectly.
Of course it did. Just like the clothes.
Suddenly, the bell at the front entrance chimed. Not a polite ding, but a jarring sound caused by the door being thrown open with force.
Voices raised at the front desk.
"Sir, you cannot go back there!"
"Get out of my way."
Eliza's blood ran cold. She knew that voice.
She turned just as the frosted glass door to the VIP room was shoved open.
Anson stood there. He looked disheveled. His tie was crooked, his hair messy, and his eyes were wild. He spotted Eliza instantly.
He stormed over, ignoring the manager, ignoring Azalea.
"That platinum band... it looks cheap, Eliza. Is that the best your new benefactor could afford?" Anson spat. He didn't reach for her. He reached for the velvet tray on the table, picking up a grotesquely large diamond necklace.
He dangled it in front of her face. "This is what you're worth. Not that... pathetic little shackle. Come home. I'll buy you ten of these."
"She's not for sale, Anson," Eliza said, her voice shaking but her chin up. She clenched her left hand into a fist, protecting the simple band.
"Not for sale?" Anson laughed darkly. "Everything about you is for sale. I control your trust fund, Eliza. Your entire life is funded by my signature. I can cut you off without a penny."
"Not anymore," a calm, icy voice said from the doorway.
Everyone turned. Dallas's senior lawyer, Mr. Sterling, stood there, flanked by two security guards. He held a tablet.
"As of 9:15 this morning, upon the official execution of her new legal status change, all assets within the Solomon Trust have been legally transferred to Ms. Solomon's independent control," Mr. Sterling announced, his voice carrying through the silent room. "You no longer have signing authority, Mr. Hyde. In fact, you are in breach of fiduciary duty for your past... expenditures."
Anson's face went from arrogant red to a ghostly white. The financial power, his primary weapon, had just been vaporized.
"I'll find out who is backing her," Anson hissed, dropping the necklace back onto the tray with a clatter. "And I'll ruin him. I will bankrupt him and leave him in the gutter. And then you'll come crawling back."
He spun around and stormed out.
Eliza stood there, trembling. The adrenaline was fading, leaving her knees weak.
The store manager stepped forward, bowing slightly to Mr. Sterling. "Mr. Hyde is now banned from all our properties, effective immediately."
Eliza stared at the door. He was going to try to ruin her husband.
He was going to try to ruin Dallas Koch.
She almost laughed. It was a hysterical, terrified sound bubbling in her throat. Anson was about to kick a steel wall and break his foot.
