Chapter 1

Three years ago, my husband stole the gold bracelet my mother left me and gave it to his female assistant, Monica Chandler.

I gave him two choices.

Either fire Monica and return the bracelet to me.

Or divorce.

The next day, Eric James slid the bracelet back onto my wrist with his own hands and transferred Monica out of town.

For three years after that, every time the anniversary of my mother's death came around, I wore it to the cemetery.

Until today, when the jeweler told me:

"Mrs. James, this bracelet is brass."

"The real gold bracelet was melted down into a pair of wedding bands three years ago, by Mr. James."

The blood seemed to run backwards in my veins. I stood frozen where I was.

So all the devotion I had once believed in was nothing but my own wishful thinking.

....

The jeweler pushed the test report across the counter to me.

The thin layer of gold on the surface had already worn through, exposing the dark red brass underneath. I scratched at it lightly with my nail, and another little flake of gold curled up, like a false skin that should have peeled away long ago.

Before she died, my mother slipped this bracelet onto my wrist.

She no longer had the strength to finish a full sentence. She could only trace the engraving on the inside of the bracelet, over and over.

Nina, be safe.

That was the last thing she ever said to me.

Three days after she was buried, the bracelet vanished from the safe. I found it on Monica's social media.

In the photo, Monica was wearing my mother's bracelet, leaning against Eric's shoulder. The caption was a single line:

"A girl with someone to love her gets everything."

I rushed to the company and slapped Monica across the face in front of everyone.

Eric's first reaction was to pull her behind him. It wasn't until I took off my wedding ring that he panicked.

That night, he knelt before my mother's portrait until morning. He said Monica had only borrowed the bracelet for a set of company promotional photos, that he had no idea she would post a caption like that.

I didn't believe him.

So he stripped Monica of her position in front of me, transferred her to the Southern branch office, and had the jeweler clean the bracelet and send it back home.

I once thought that was the choice he'd made between me and Monica.

Only now do I understand. All he stripped away was Monica's position on paper, and what he gave back to me was never my mother's keepsake.

A worthless fake bracelet had bought three years of my trust.

My phone rang just then. It was Eric.

He asked first whether I'd been to visit my mother, then pressed me to sign an authorization to renovate the old house. That house was the last piece of property my mother left me, and the place where I grew up.

Eric said the company wanted to turn it into a brand showroom, and that this way my mother's name could stay with the company forever.

I had meant to sign as soon as I finished at the grave.

I didn't confront him. I only told him I hadn't finished reading the documents.

Eric was silent for a few seconds, his tone going slightly heavy. He said the board was waiting, and told me not to let a little personal emotion affect the company's plans.

Then his voice softened again.

"The things Mom left you, you need to keep them safe."

"Especially that bracelet. Don't wear it out."

I looked at the fake bracelet on the table with its brass showing through, and suddenly I wasn't sad anymore.

If he could use even my mother's keepsake as a prop in his act, how much sincerity could I still expect from him.