The sound of the guest room lock turning echoed softly as I sat curled up in the corner of the bed, holding my belly and looking through a worn photo album.
On one of the yellowed pages was a picture of my first child just after he was born—his tiny mouth curved in a faint smile, warm and soft like a ball of cotton.
“What little treasure are you looking at, Austria?”
Dakota’s voice broke the quiet. Gone was her fragile, pitiful tone she used in front of Gifford. Her words now dripped with blatant malice.
When I ignored her, she lifted the moon-shaped necklace that hung from her neck, tilting her head slightly as if to show it off.
My chest tightened. I lifted my gaze to meet hers.
I didn’t want to fight with her—not now, not while I still had to protect the baby I was carrying—but that necklace… that was the last thing my Grandma, the person who loved me the most, had ever left me.
If it weren’t for my baby, I would never have agreed to give that precious heirloom to the woman who had hurt my firstborn.
“Girl,” she said, smirking, “I don’t even want to keep a dead woman’s old necklace.”
Her tone sharpened, cruel delight glinting in her eyes. “But knowing that I stole it from you—that’s what really thrills me.”
“Dakota,” I replied, forcing my voice to remain steady, “what exactly do you want?”
“What do I want?” she asked back, scoffing. “You, of all people, should know best. These years, haven’t I made it obvious? Every single thing I did was to provoke you little by little.”
Before I could react, she yanked the necklace off her neck in one quick motion.
Realizing what she meant to do, I cried out, “Don’t!”
“Dakota, all the things you’ve done to hurt me—I can let them go. I won’t hold them against you. Just… please, give my grandmother’s necklace back,” I begged.
But she only curled her lips into a cruel smile, her words cold enough to freeze the air between us.
“I don’t need your forgiveness,” she sneered. “I just love watching you in pain. That’s what makes me feel alive.”
Then, she let go.
My grandma’s necklace hit the floor with a sharp clink, the sound slicing straight through my heart.
“Austria,” she said mockingly, “this isn’t enough.”
The heel of her stiletto came down hard.
And with a crack, the beautiful jade pendant shattered into several pieces beneath her shoe.
“No… don’t!”
I could only watch, helpless, as the moon-shaped jade pendant—carved by my grandmother’s own hands—was crushed before my eyes.
Suddenly, I remembered that day so clearly, when Grandma called me to her bedside for the last time.
“Sweetheart, don’t cry for me anymore. If you keep crying, you’ll stop being pretty.”
“Here,” she said, pressing the necklace into my palm, “this moon pendant—I made it myself. I hope that even when you go through darkness, you’ll shine again, just like the moon.”
She caressed my cheek with a smile. “Wear it, hm? And think of it as Grandma staying by your side.”
Over the years, I had replaced so many things—earrings, rings, bracelets—but that necklace had never left my neck. It was the one thing I treasured most.
Now, it lay shattered on the floor, my memories trampled into dust.
My mouth opened, but no sound came out. Tears welled in my eyes, spilling down not from sorrow, but from the sharp and unbearable ache in my chest.
Dakota looked at my pale face and laughed triumphantly. Grinding her heel against the broken pieces once more, she said, “Already heartbroken? It’s just a worthless keepsake. The real pain… hasn’t even started yet.”
