Chapter 3

"Hand it over."

Julian held out his palm, his voice deadpan.

Propped up against the pillows, I stared back at him.

"I didn't take it. There's a security camera in the corner. Go check the security desk yourself."

Chloe hid behind him, her voice choked with tears. "Julian, I swear it was on my neck when I came in. Summer has always hated me. Seeing your engagement gift must have triggered her..."

Watching Chloe's amateur acting, I felt only disgust.

I raised my heavily bandaged, immobilized right arm.

"Chloe, I haven't even been able to get out of this bed. How exactly did I reach across the room and pluck a necklace off your neck?"

Julian’s eyes flickered across the thick gauze, a fleeting hesitation passing through him before being smothered by cold contempt.

"What line haven't you crossed to hurt Chloe?" he scoffed. "Three years ago, you tried to steal credit for saving my life. A few days ago, you stole my car to save your own skin. Do you really expect me to believe a broken finger stops you from pocketing jewelry?"

His words hammered into my skull.

I gave up.

To Julian Sterling, every breath I drew was a lie, every word a scheme.

"I said I didn't take it," I replied, turning my gaze toward the window. "If you don't believe me, call the police."

"The police?" Julian let out a dark, mocking laugh. "So you can make a headline out of it? The future Mrs. Sterling robbed in a hospital room? You'd love to drag Chloe's name through the mud, wouldn't you?"

He didn't waste another second. He turned toward the door and whistled.

Two towering private security guards in black suits marched into the room.

"Tear the place apart," Julian commanded coldly.

The guards closed in on my bed.

"What are you doing!" I shrank back instinctively.

One guard clamped a heavy hand down on my left shoulder, while the other violently ripped back my bedsheets.

They tore through the mattress, sweeping my private belongings and medicine bottles off the nightstand with a deafening crash.

I fought against the guard's grip. The sudden movement yanked the IV needle in my left hand, blowing the vein. A lump formed under my skin as blood welled up, dripping down my knuckles.

The guard shoved me roughly back against the pillows.

My cast slammed hard against the stainless steel bed rail.

A blinding flare of agony shot straight up my arm into my brain.

My vision blacked out for a second. Cold sweat instantly soaked through my hospital gown. I bit my lower lip until it bled, refusing to give them the satisfaction of a scream.

"Mr. Sterling, the bed is clean," the guard reported, stepping back.

Chloe bit her lip and hastily piped up, "Julian, do you think she panicked and threw it out the window, or into the trash?"

Julian watched my trembling body. His eyes darkened slightly, but he didn't call his men off.

"Dump her bag."

The guard grabbed Daniel’s canvas duffel off the visitor's chair, unzipped it, and turned it upside down.

A change of clothes, hospital receipts, and a stack of papers scattered across the linoleum floor.

No pink diamond.

However, the force of the drop split open an inner seam of the worn bag.

A simple, faded red cord bracelet slipped out from the lining.

Ten years ago, my mother had braided that cord with her failing hands in the hospice ward before taking her last breath.

Over the years, Julian had bought me countless platinum and sapphire pieces, none of which I ever wore.

Only that frayed red thread was sacred to me.

Julian’s eyes caught the splash of red.

He stepped forward, bent down, and picked up the bracelet between two fingers.