Chapter 249
Chapter 249:
“I wore it once,” Jeannine said dryly, staring at the diamonds with an expression that bordered on distaste. “At my wedding. It gave me a migraine that lasted three days. It’s heavy, it digs into the scalp, and it requires perfect posture just to keep it from sliding off p>
She pushed the box across the polished wood toward Eliza. The velvet scraped softly against the table.
“It belongs to the Lady of the House,” Jeannine said. “Since you are staying, and since you seem to have the spine for it, you take it p>
Eliza stared at the array of gems. This wasn’t ten million dollars. This was heritage. This was acceptance into a world that usually barred its doors to anyone with the last name Solomon.
“I can’t accept this,” Eliza said, her voice steady but quiet. “It’s too much. It’s your family legacy p>
“You must,” Jeannine said, her eyes hardening. “Unless you want Ferd to think you are weak. Unless you want the board wives to whisper that you are wearing costume jewelry. In this world, Eliza, armor comes in karat gold p>
Jo𝗂𝘯 𝗍hе 𝖼𝗼𝘮𝘮𝘶n𝗂t𝘆 аt 𝗀𝗮𝗅ոo𝗏𝘦𝘭ѕ.𝘤о𝗆
Eliza hesitated. She looked at the tiara — beautiful and cruel, a gilded cage for the head.
Dallas reached out. His large hand moved past her hesitation and lifted the tiara from the box with casual ease, as though it were made of plastic rather than a king’s ransom. He rose from his chair, moved behind Eliza, and the room went still. Gigi stopped buttering her roll. Azalea held her breath.
Dallas placed the tiara gently on Eliza’s head. He adjusted it, his fingers brushing through her hair — warm and steady — and settled its weight.
“It fits,” he said.
His voice was a low rumble, dark with satisfaction. He wasn’t looking at the diamonds. He was looking at her reflection in the mirror on the opposite wall.
Eliza looked up. The woman in the mirror bore no resemblance to the orphan who had once begged for a contract marriage. She looked regal. The diamonds caught the chandelier’s light and cast a halo of cold fire around her dark hair. But it was the look in Dallas’s eyes in the reflection — predatory, proud, possessive — that made her heart hammer against her ribs.
“Heavy is the head,” Eliza whispered, lifting a hand to touch the cold metal.
“The neck is strong,” Dallas replied. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her temple, just below the rim of the tiara. “You were built for this weight, El p>
Azalea let out a long exhale and slumped back in her chair. “Okay, that was disgustingly cinematic.” She looked at Jeannine. “Can I borrow the earrings for prom? They would look incredible with my black dress p>
“No,” Jeannine snapped, the sharp, critical edge returning in an instant. “You’ll lose them. Or trade them for concert tickets p>
Azalea pouted, crossing her arms. She glanced at Eliza, then back at Jeannine. “See? She still hates me. I’m just the spectator at the royal wedding p>
Eliza felt a pang of guilt. She carefully lifted the tiara from her head, feeling the relief as the weight lifted, and placed it back in the velvet box.