Forty-Four
ICUT OFF LEXI ON MY WAY TO DASH.
He and Maureen are engaged in conversation with one of his cousins, Rupert, my grandfather’s sister’s only son. Doing research into my own family was, surprisingly, one of the most complicated pieces of heist prep. Stare at the diagrammed lineage of a legacy like the Owenses for long enough and you’ll feel like you’re reading an epic fantasy novel. Dash is playing the genteel, grinning groom, his schmoozing powers on full display.
I can’t hesitate. Can’t give Lexi room to grab his attention.
I interrupt him bluntly. “I want my necklace back,” I demand.
Dash blinks, surprised. I put on a pout. Now more than ever, I’m playing the overemotional, impulsive, reckless daughter, who would do something disruptive but could never plot a multistep heist.
I recognize the shift in his expression even though his smile doesn’t change. In front of cousin Rupert, he’s controlling himself. It gratifies me to note how poorly he’s pulling off his restraint. While I might have learned how to pretend from him, I’ve surpassed his lifetime of practice.
He keeps his voice low. “What the hell has gotten into you?” he hisses, darting glances at the family, all listening into our conversation eagerly.
Mia smirks from the other end of the table. I know the Swiss faction is fully enjoying my show. Yes, they’ll lose more respect for me. Who cares? They’ve never really been my family anyway.
Maureen’s hands fly to the diamond—the one she practically forgot she requested when I fetched the heirloom for her. Notably, she doesn’t offer it up.
“My necklace,” I prompt. “Grandpa left it for me. Not your third wife.”
When Maureen’s eyes narrow, her skin going white, I quietly revel in how well my words have hit their mark. Calling Maureen out for wearing my grandfather’s heirloom in front of the assembled family is unexpectedly perfect. Where relation itself demands no loyalty, family diamonds are the closest indication of cachet. I’ve just made Maureen the outsider, the pretender.
Let’s see how you like it, Mrs. Owens. Care to make a scene?
“Stop being so childish,” my father snaps.
I hear the force in his words, how they summon feelings he’s not having for the first time. Years of judgment, of disappointment spoken and unspoken. I let the hurt roll over me, cleansing me in fury.
“Why?” I challenge him. “I’m seventeen. Or did you forget when you kicked me out of your house that I’m still legally a kid?”
Rupert’s eyebrows fly up.
My father’s face flushes. He looks, for once, lost for words, called out on his behavior in a setting he can’t manipulate. It’s incredible to watch, silence from a man who once podcasted for forty-five minutes on how movie streaming represented the socioeconomic collapse of the country.
Silence, however, won’t save me. It’s not enough.
With security descending, moving in on the periphery, and Lexi undoubtedly lying in wait, I feel my window closing like the front door on the day I moved out. I need to act. Now is the moment.
I reach forward and rip the diamond necklace from my stepmother’s neck.
It doesn’t come off easily, the motion jostling Maureen so much, she spills her glass of champagne on us both. I slip when the necklace comes free, landing hard on the grass. Gasps echo up from the family in unison. Instantly, four hundred pairs of eyes fall on me. The band stops playing. It’s kind of amazing how quickly a party can change into a disaster area.
While I have the entire wedding’s attention, I start running—passing just feet from security, making sure they see the diamond necklace dangling from my hand. As I’d hoped, they change directions, no longer approaching Dash.
Now they chase me.