Hilda stared at the woman in front of her, baffled by the sheer absurdity of it all.
"Vivienne," she said, "six months ago I was lying in the ICU waiting to die. I wasn't nearly as busy as you seem to think."
Vivienne froze.
Hilda held her gaze, reading the hostility burning there, and almost laughed at how ridiculous it was.
"You know what I kept thinking back then? If I died, who would even care?"
"Not Jasper. He was too busy playing house with you. My grandmother was already gone. My friends had no idea where I was. It seemed like there wasn't a single person on this earth who'd shed one tear for me."
"But now?"
"Now I have a father. He has money. He has connections. And if he wanted to, he could make life very, very difficult for the Fairmonts and the Blakes. Maybe not bring them to their knees, but enough to cause a world of trouble."
The color drained from Vivienne's face.
Hilda shrugged. "Do I need to spell it out for you, Miss Blake?"
She looked Vivienne dead in the eye.
"My father knows nothing about what happened between Jasper and me. And I have zero interest in telling him."
"Because I already died once. You and Jasper are nothing more than insignificant remnants of a life that's already dead and buried."
Vivienne's face flushed an ugly, mottled red.
"You—"
The driver pulled the car over to the curb. Hilda pushed the door open and left Vivienne with one final remark.
"I hope that after today, things go exactly the way you once told me they would."
"This is the last time we see each other, Vivienne. Keep yourself in check. And keep Jasper in check."
Jasper refused to give up. He cycled through phone number after phone number trying to get Hilda to meet him, and when nothing worked, he played his last card: Grandma Nora.
Hilda sat in the café, frowning at the man across from her. He'd dressed himself up to the nines, practically preening. She cut straight to the point. "Where's the necklace?"
Hurt flickered across Jasper's face. He pressed his lips together, then slowly, almost reluctantly, reached into his pocket and placed something on the table with painstaking care.
It was the necklace. The one he'd thrown off the bridge. The one that had caused her accident.
"Hildie." His eyes rimmed red. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have been so reckless. I searched that bridge for days and nights, and these were the only beads I could find. This was the best I could get it repaired."
Hilda drew a long breath, picked up the necklace, and said, "Fine. I'm leaving."
Jasper choked. His hand shot out and caught her arm.
"Hilda, let me make it up to you. I'll buy you another one. Something nicer, something more expensive."
Hilda tilted her head and looked at him. A bitter smile crossed her lips. "Jasper, there's no need to trample all over my grandmother's love like that."
His expression changed.
"She had those two necklaces made with every penny she'd saved over her entire life, while she was already sick. Her wish was for you and me to live happily ever after." Hilda's voice was steady and merciless. "You lost the right to wear that necklace a long time ago."
Jasper's lips trembled, but not a single word came out.
"I still remember you asking me why I couldn't understand you."
Hilda ran her thumb along the fracture lines in the beads, and a strange, hollow smile surfaced on her face. "So tell me, did you ever once try to understand me?"
"I gave you seven years. I knew the pressure from your parents was enormous, so I gave up my career. Gave up my future. I learned flower arranging. I learned etiquette. I learned how to become the kind of high-society wife who'd be worthy of standing next to you."
"My hands were torn up by thorns. My feet bled through my heels. I swallowed every whisper from colleagues, every pitying look from friends, and I told myself you loved me. That you were just in a difficult position."
"And what did you do?"
"You got engaged to Vivienne behind my back. You let her destroy my reputation in front of my grandmother. You left my grandmother standing outside your company while she was humiliated, and even though you knew she was sick, even after she collapsed, you couldn't be bothered to spare her a single glance."
"When Grandma died, I called you, Jasper. Do you remember where you were? You were in bed with Vivienne."
Something cold slid down Hilda's cheek. She didn't know when the tears had started.
She lifted her hand, wiped them away, and kept going.
"Our baby died that same day, Jasper. Are you satisfied now?"
