Never innocent.
Ava’s voice remained calm. “Bianca, your bracelet was purchased last Tuesday at 3:42 PM from an account that Ryan declared inaccessible in court.”
Bianca’s face froze.
“Your rent at 88 Leonard was paid from the same account two days later.”
A fork clicked somewhere behind them.
“And the transfer for your trip to Paris will mention your name in the ‘subject’ section.”
Bianca’s lips parted slightly.
Ryan stood up.
“Ava.”
And there you have it.
No anger now.
Warning.
The old voice.
The one he used behind closed doors when he wanted her to remember who held the money, who knew the judges, who could make a woman disappear from all the guest lists in New York.
But Ava was no longer behind a closed door.
And Ryan didn’t own all the money.
Not tonight.
Not even close.
Ava looked at him.
And at that precise moment, the first anaphora arose within her like a match being lit.
She remembered the night he told her she was lucky he was still coming home.
She remembered the morning when her mother had suggested she “dress more lightly” so that he wouldn’t wander off.
She remembered the lawyer who had smiled mockingly when Ryan offered him less than the price of his mistress’s bracelet.
She remembered the ultrasound that she had never shown him because she had lost the baby before deciding whether to forgive him.
She remembered the bathroom floor.
She remembered the blood.
She remembered scrubbing the tiles all by herself because Ryan had taken Bianca to Aspen.
She remembered.
She remembered.
She remembered.
And because she remembered, she didn’t break down.
She froze.
Ava rummaged in her coat pocket.
Ryan’s eyes followed the movement.
Bianca’s too.
Half of the restaurant’s cameras were working in the same way.
Ava took out a small velvet box.
Black.
Unbranded.
Ryan stared at him, perplexed.
Bianca let out a small laugh, too nervous to let her cruelty show. “What, you treated yourself to a consolation prize?”
Ava opened the box.
The diamond inside caught the candlelight and shattered it.
All the tables around them turned white for a moment.
It wasn’t delicate.
It was not in discreet taste, in the manner of old fortunes.
It was a storm trapped in platinum.
An emerald-cut blue diamond surrounded by two shield-cut white diamonds, set on a ring so clean and cold that it seemed architectural.
Bianca’s mouth opened wide.
Ryan stopped breathing.
Someone whispered, “It’s Hartwell blue.”
Another voice, older and wealthier, said: “No, it’s not possible.”
Ava took the ring out of the box.
Slowly.
Do not execute.
To give Ryan time to understand that the world he thought he controlled had just tipped over beneath his polished feet.
She slipped the ring onto her finger on her left hand.
It suits me perfectly.
Ryan stared at the diamond.
Then to Ava.
Then back to the diamond.
His face contorted.
“This ring belongs to Elijah Hartwell.”
Ava looked at him. “Yes.”
