Chapter 6

"Rosalind Hartwell!" Father's face darkened instantly. "Who gave you permission to come out here?"

"Rosalind?" Vivienne stood, confusion arranged perfectly across her features. "What's going on? Are you alright?"

"When did you steal it, Vivienne?" I checked the box where I kept the necklace every night before I slept. Last night, it had still been there.

Through every year they'd refused to care about me, that necklace had been the one thing that kept me from drowning. It was proof that someone had once loved me. Proof that my mother had been real.

"Steal? I — what?" Vivienne's eyes went wide with theatrical innocence.

"Rosalind, that is enough." Father's jaw was tight. "This is Vivienne's interview."

"I don't care about any interview! This necklace belonged to my mother and she gave it to me. What gives her the right to take it? She's already taken everything else — wasn't that enough?"

"And another thing — my mother is not dead. Watch your mouth, Vivienne. This is not a keepsake. It is not a relic."

The host looked between us uncertainly. "Is this...?"

Vivienne shot Father a panicked glance.

Father's expression settled into something smooth and cold. "A servant's relative. She lives on the grounds."

I gripped the necklace until the chain bit into my palm. The cold started somewhere at the base of my spine and spread upward.

Father had told the world long ago that he had only one daughter. Vivienne had spent years at school calling me the nanny's child. But this was the first time he had said it to my face, out loud, with cameras rolling.

The panic drained from Vivienne's expression. Satisfaction replaced it. She moved while I was still reeling, and snatched the necklace from my hand.

"Rosalind, I think you're confused. This isn't yours."

"If there's something else you'd like — anything else, no matter the cost — just tell me and I'll give it to you. But this necklace is the only thing my mother left me. I can't let it go."

The crew watched me with poorly concealed contempt. A servant's child, crashing a live broadcast to steal from the young mistress. The math wasn't hard for them.

Someone muttered: "She's doing it on purpose. Wants the drama. Wants to go viral."

I didn't have the energy to care what any of them thought. I only wanted the necklace back.

"Give it back. It's the last thing she gave me. Give it back."

Vivienne let me grab her wrist — then opened her fingers.

The necklace fell. The moonstone pendant struck the marble floor and shattered into pieces.

I stumbled.

My mind went perfectly blank.

The last thing my mother had ever given me.

Gone.

"Now are you satisfied? Get out." Father's voice was barely controlled fury, his eyes like he wanted to tear me apart.

Vivienne pressed a hand to her mouth, tears welling. "Rosalind — how could you?"

The crew murmured their disapproval.

I heard none of it.

I was already on my knees, gathering the fragments.

The broken edges sliced my fingertips. My tears fell onto the cuts — warm, wet, stinging.

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