Chapter 4 - THE EMERALD ON A STRANGER'S THROAT
The sound of the wax seal breaking was surprisingly loud,
like a small twig snapping in the dead of winter.
Grant’s eyes locked onto the grey folder in my hands,
his brow furrowing as he tried to read the label on the cover.
"What is that?"
he demanded,
his voice losing its polished,
gala-ready tone,
becoming low and defensive.
I did not answer him immediately,
choosing instead to let the silence stretch out,
forcing the crowd to watch our silent battle.
I looked at the beautiful emeralds resting against Celeste's skin,
the deep green stones catching the light of the chandelier.
"Those emeralds,"
I said,
my voice carrying clearly to the first few rows of guests,
"belonged to my grandmother,
Eleanor Beaumont."
Celeste’s hand flew to her neck,
her fingers clutching the stones as if she could protect them from my gaze.
"Grant gave them to me,"
she said,
her voice rising slightly,
losing its calm,
sympathetic veneer.
"He told me they were a gift for the mother of his son,"
she added,
glancing at Grant for support.
"Grant did not have the right to give them to you,"
I replied calmly,
unfolding the first page of the document inside the folder.
"According to the terms of the Beaumont Trust,
all family jewels are held in perpetuity for the direct descendants of my mother."
I looked at Sophie,
then back at Celeste,
whose face was beginning to show the first signs of real panic.
"They are currently valued at over two million dollars,"
I continued,
reading directly from the official trust inventory.
"And their unauthorized removal from the family vault constitutes grand larceny,
Celeste."
A collective murmur went through the crowd,
several guests leaning forward to get a better look at the necklace.
Grant stepped in front of Celeste,
trying to shield her from the mounting scrutiny of the room.
"Evelyn,
this is absurd,"
he hissed,
his face flushing a deep,
angry red under the bright lights.
"I am your husband,
and I have full access to the family vaults,"
he claimed,
his voice shaking slightly with anger.
"You had access,
Grant,"
I corrected him,
my voice cool and precise as a scalpel.
"Until three weeks ago,
when the trust trustees voted unanimously to revoke your administrative privileges."
I turned the page,
revealing a certified copy of the trustee resolution,
signed by Margaret Shaw and the board.
"You were notified of this change via certified mail to your office,"
I added,
looking up to meet his stunned gaze.
"But I suppose you were too busy planning this grand unveiling to read your mail."
Celeste’s hand dropped from her neck,
her face turning a shade of pale that matched her white silk gown.
She looked at Grant,
waiting for him to dismiss my claims,
waiting for him to restore her sense of triumph.
But Grant was staring at the document in my hand,
his eyes scanning the signatures,
his mouth opening and closing without sound.
He knew Margaret Shaw’s signature,
and he knew the absolute authority of the Beaumont Trust.
The crowd began to whisper more urgently now,
the shifting dynamics of the room becoming glaringly obvious to everyone present.
The powerful board members of Beaumont Enterprises were no longer looking at the baby portrait with polite smiles.
They were looking at Grant with sharp,
calculating eyes,
recognizing the scent of a brewing corporate disaster.
I looked at the portrait of baby Julian,
then back at my husband,
feeling no pity for the man who had betrayed me.
"You wanted to talk about family,
Grant,"
I said,
May you like
my voice steady and cold.
"So let us talk about what you have done to this family's assets."
