“Why does it seem… different?” Millie asked, confusion creeping into her voice as she lifted the necklace.

Myron followed her line of sight but saw nothing unusual. It looked exactly the same to him. These were the pieces of jewelry removed from her after she had been rescued from the fire the previous year. He had been present the entire time; nothing could have been replaced. More than that, he understood what that blue diamond necklace meant to Millie — it was one of a kind to her. And it had never left his care. He was certain this was the original piece.

“Is something wrong?” Myron asked, studying her expression.

Millie turned the necklace over in her hand, then raised her eyes to meet his. “Did you clean it?” she asked, staring directly at him.

Myron gave a nod.

“When you were rescued from the fire last year, you were covered in blood from Macauley’s attack. Some of it got on the necklace too,” he said. “I wiped it down first, then ran it through a machine wash. Is there any damage?”

A flicker of unease crossed his face. As far as he knew, there shouldn’t have been any issue. Between the Elliotts’ reputation for handling gemstones and his own experience, everything should have been done properly. Besides, it was a diamond.

“No damage,” Millie said, shaking her head as she continued examining it. “Not only is there no damage, but…” Her words trailed off as she kept looking, as though something refused to come together in her mind.

Myron couldn’t tell what she was getting at and watched her with a deepening frown. Millie checked the necklace again and again. Then, all at once, her pupils contracted sharply. She clenched the necklace in her fist and pushed herself up, intent on getting out of bed.

But her legs still hadn’t fully recovered their strength. The moment she stood, her balance gave way, and she nearly fell. Myron caught her before she could collapse.

“Millie, what’s wrong?” he asked, alarm clear in his voice as he took in her expression, her eyes rimmed with red, her face unnervingly intense.

“Take me to JM Investments,” Millie said urgently, one hand holding her laptop tight against her body, the other locked around Myron’s arm. “Take me there. Now!”

Her tone was firm, leaving no room for argument. The digital clock read 4:15 a.m.

Seeing the resolve burning in her eyes, Myron gave a short nod. “Alright.” He pulled a coat from nearby and draped it around her shoulders. “Give me a second. You want to keep a low profile, right?”

Millie nodded in response. Without wasting another moment, Myron lifted her and moved swiftly down the stairs, cutting through a side passage before placing her into the car.

.

.

.