The blonde woman stepped forward too quickly. “Take it off her,” she snapped. “Now.”
But the older man did not move.
He stared at the crest on the necklace, his breath shallow, his fingers shaking as if the diamonds had suddenly become heavier than the whole ballroom.
“This crest was made for one child,” he said. The girl looked up through tears. “I don’t understand.”
He turned the necklace gently and revealed a tiny hidden clasp. Inside was a miniature portrait of a young woman holding a baby wrapped in blue satin.
The girl stopped crying.
“That’s my mother,” she whispered.
The blonde woman’s face went pale. The older man looked at her slowly.
“You told me the baby died.” The ballroom went silent.
The girl clutched the broken strap of her dress, confused and trembling.
The blonde woman stepped back, shaking her head.
“She was supposed to disappear.”
The older man’s eyes filled with rage and grief.
He took the girl’s hand and turned to the guests. “Then everyone here just witnessed the return of my granddaughter.”
