Not yet.
After the arrests, the wedding dissolved into sirens, shouting and cameras.
Preston was taken out through the service entrance.
Shelby left separately.
Her veil was gone.
Mascara streaked down her cheeks.
And the ring was still on her finger.
I watched from the balcony overlooking the hotel lobby.
I expected satisfaction.
Instead, I felt exhausted.
Elias approached.
“We need to talk.”
“If this is about the press—”
“It’s not.”
Something about his expression frightened me.
“What?”
He held a small envelope.
My name was written on the front.
My mother’s handwriting.
I stared at it.
“Where did you get that?”
“Your mother’s attorney delivered it this afternoon.”
“Why today?”
“Because of a condition in her instructions.”
“What condition?”
Elias looked toward the ballroom.
“The ring.”
My heart stopped.
“What about it?”
“She told the attorney that if Preston ever gave that specific ring to another woman, this letter was to be delivered to you.”
I stared at him.
“That’s impossible.”
“Open it.”
My hands shook.
Inside was a single sheet of cream paper.
Vivienne,
If you are reading this, then Preston did exactly what I hoped he would never be foolish enough to do.
The ring was never his.
I stopped.
Read the sentence again.
Then continued.
Three years ago, you showed me the sketch after your anniversary dinner.
You laughed when you told me Preston called it sentimental.
You pretended it didn’t hurt.
Mothers know better.
So I had it made.
My vision blurred.
I looked toward Shelby, now being escorted through the lobby below.
The diamond flashed beneath the lights.
My mother had made it.
Not Preston.
Her letter continued.
I intended to give it to you on your birthday.
Then I learned about Preston and Shelby.
I also learned someone was trying to access accounts that should have been impossible for Preston to reach.
So I changed my plans.
I placed the ring inside my private safe beside a false set of transfer documents.
Only three people knew the combination.
You.
Me.
And Preston.
My knees weakened.
Elias pulled out a chair.
I sat.
The letter trembled in my hands.
If the ring ever disappears, I’ll know which choice he made.
If Shelby ever wears it, you’ll know which choice she made too.
But there’s something neither of them knows.
The sapphires aren’t decorative.
I stopped reading.
“Elias.”
He nodded.
“Keep going.”
Beneath the first sapphire is a microscopic identification mark registered to my estate.
Beneath the second is something more useful.
Ask Elias for the jeweler’s tool.
I looked at him.
He produced a tiny velvet case.
Inside was a precision key.
My mouth went dry.
“What is under the sapphire?”
Elias answered quietly.
“A storage capsule.”
I almost laughed.
“You’re joking.”
“Your mother had unusual friends.”
“What is on it?”
“We don’t know.”
