Chapter 13
The applause hadn't stopped. It hung in the salon like heat, too loud for the size of the room. The elderly woman's hands were still moving, light clapping, her pearl necklace catching the recessed light. The woman in the blue dress had tears in her eyes. The woman in the sparkly dress was already holding up her phone.
I stood with the chain cold against my skin. He stood beside me, his own ring pendant resting on his black shirt. We hadn't touched. We hadn't agreed to any of this.
The elderly woman stepped forward, her voice bright over the clapping. "Well, we won't make you wait. We are so happy for you both."
I felt my breath go shallow and then I made it slow down. I didn't raise my voice. I didn't pull the chain off. I just let the room hear the quiet between claps.
"This was locked in his office last night," I said. "Then who put it on me?"
The clapping faltered. One pair of hands stopped, then another. The woman in the sparkly dress lowered her phone an inch.
He looked at me, then at them. His jaw was tight but his voice was even.
"It was locked," he said. "My office. I locked the drawer myself before dinner. I checked it at eleven. The ring was inside the leather box. The box was in the locked drawer. No one had the combination except me."
The elderly woman's smile didn't fade so much as it thinned. She turned her head toward him, her eyes searching his face for a correction that didn't come.
"You're sure?" she asked.
"I'm sure," he said. "I didn't bring it out. I didn't put it on either of us."
For a second nobody moved. The air conditioning hummed through the wood-paneled walls. A steward in a white polo stood near the sideboard with a tray of champagne glasses no one had taken.
I looked at him directly. "Can you confirm who had access last night?"
He nodded to the steward. "Marcus. Did anyone request a key after midnight?"
Marcus set the tray down carefully. He didn't look at the four women first. He looked at the floor, then at the man.
"Yes, sir," he said. "At two-oh-seven. Miss Lauren asked for the master key. Said she'd left her earrings in your office and didn't want to wake you. I logged it. She returned it at two-twenty-one."
The salon went completely quiet. The woman in the blue dress took a half step back. The elderly woman's hands came together and stilled against her chest.
The younger woman in the light blue blazer was still smiling, but it had gone tight at the corners. Her own pearl necklace sat high on her throat.
"That's not—" she started, then stopped. She glanced at me, then at the elderly woman. "I did borrow the key. I did go into the office. But I wasn't trying to— I was trying to help."
"Help how?" I asked. My voice stayed low. I kept my hands still at my sides.
She swallowed. "You two have been private for months. Everyone could see it. My grandmother kept asking when it would be official. My mom kept saying we needed clarity before the board dinner Thursday. I thought if you woke up and it was already done, you'd just... say yes. It was going to happen anyway."
The woman in the blue dress stared at her. "Lauren."
The elderly woman hadn't moved. Her eyes had shifted from joy to something else entirely. Concern, and underneath it, a quick, sharp reassessment. She looked at the chain around my neck, then at the matching one around his chest.
"You placed the heirloom bands on them while they slept?" she asked. Her voice was very quiet.
Lauren's cheeks flushed. "I didn't think it would upset anyone. It's a family ring. It means commitment. I thought you'd be happy."
"I am happy when people choose each other," the elderly woman said. She spoke slowly, each word measured. "Not when they are chosen for."
She turned to me then, really looked at me for the first time since the doorway. Her earlier delight was gone.
"Did you agree to wear this?" she asked me.
"No," I said. "I didn't know it existed until I woke up."
She turned to him. "And you?"
"No," he said. "I didn't."
May you like
No one clapped. The champagne sat untouched. The ring was still warm against my skin, but it no longer felt like a celebration. It felt exactly what it was — a heavy gold band threaded on a thin chain, placed by someone else's hands.
I didn't pull it off to make a point. I didn't throw it down. I just let it hang there, visible, while the room understood that wearing it hadn't meant yes.
