"Ian Delgado, you animal!"
I stumbled toward him, half-running, half-falling over my own feet. But before I could get close, a shovelful of dirt from my mother's grave hit me square in the chest.
A few yards away, Ian waved his phone in the air.
"Clara, you'd better behave yourself. One little slip of my finger, and this video goes live..."
Through the nauseating sounds of Ian and Nadia pawing at each other, I saw my mother's bones.
And there, in the open grave, the burial jade. Fifteen years underground, and it still gleamed like the day it was placed there.
Ian's eyes lit up with greed. He snatched the jade and tucked it inside his coat, then tossed my mother's bones out of the grave one by one, scattering them across the dirt like garbage.
"Ian Delgado, you'll die for this!"
"Whether I die isn't up to you."
Nadia sauntered forward, all languid grace, and seized my chin between her fingers.
"In less than an hour, it'll be Ian's thirtieth birthday. Tonight is when your little scam finally falls apart."
An hour later, I was brought to Ian's birthday gala.
A massive screen behind the stage displayed his heart monitor in real time. Everyone in the city knew about the Delgado curse, and the ballroom was packed shoulder to shoulder. They had all come to see whether the century-old curse was real.
Nadia took Ian's hand and led him up onto the stage. She turned, gesturing to the enormous clock on the wall behind them, her voice bright and coy.
"Less than one minute to go! Tonight, I, Nadia Henson, will shatter this so-called curse once and for all! Everyone, bear witness!"
The ballroom fell deathly silent.
Every pair of eyes locked onto the clock and the heart monitor on the screen. The second hand swept toward twelve. The EKG line kept its strong, steady rhythm. Ian stood there looking healthy, his complexion ruddy and warm.
The clock struck midnight.
The ballroom erupted in cheers. Even Mrs. Delgado broke down in tears of joy, pressing both hands over her mouth.
She had just stepped onto the stage, arms reaching out to pull her son into an embrace, when Ian collapsed.
No warning. No stagger. Just a dead weight dropping straight to the floor with a sickening thud.
