An antique Colombian emerald surrounded by small diamonds, set in platinum.
It had belonged to my grandmother.
The monetary value wasn’t enormous compared with the rest of the estate.
Maybe eighty thousand.
But I would have walked into a burning building for it.
Cordelia’s gaze followed my fingers.
“That piece?”
“Yes.”
“Beautiful.”
“It was my grandmother’s.”
“May I see it?”
I hesitated.
Then I removed it.
Cordelia held the pendant beneath the light.
She turned it over.
For the first time, her expression changed.
Only for a second.
But I saw it.
A flicker.
Recognition.
Then she handed it back.
“Lovely.”
She left twenty minutes later.
That evening, I told Flynn about the conversation.
He laughed.
“Mother likes expensive things.”
“She asked too many questions.”
“She’s nosy.”
“She acted strange about the pendant.”
Flynn kissed my forehead.
“You’re tired, Sloan.”
I remember that sentence clearly because it became his favorite weapon.
