The Cost Of Your Stolen SapphireChapter 3

I checked into a hotel suite and spent the night with my lawyer on the phone. I wasn't just breaking up; I was scorched-earthing. The jewelry, the house, the company shares—everything was in my name. I wanted every cent back.

By the time the sun came up, my team was already gathering evidence. I finally lay down to close my eyes when my phone buzzed with a "Special Interest" notification.

It was an Instagram post from Maddy. A photo of her hand, the sapphire ring catching the morning light on her finger.

The caption read: “A man who truly loves you will always find a way to say he’s sorry.”

I stared at the screen and felt a cold, dry laugh bubble up. I took a screenshot, sent it to my lawyer, and then I blocked her. On everything.

I used to be that man. I used to be the one who apologized for her mistakes. And what did it get me? Humiliation. Betrayal. A slap in the face while another man lived in my house.

She didn't want my love. She wanted a tool to satisfy her ego. She wanted to see how much she could make me bleed before I broke.

Well, I was broken. And there was nothing left for her to take.

The next morning, my phone rang from an unknown number. I answered. It was Maddy, her voice shrill and demanding.

"Nate! Where are the keys to the lake house? And the code for your grandmother's place? I need to get some things."

My grandmother’s place.

The words snapped me wide awake. That house was a small, vine-covered cottage in the hills where I grew up. My parents were always working, always traveling, so my grandmother raised me. She was the only person who ever loved me without a price tag.

Since she passed, I had kept that house exactly as it was. I went there every weekend to dust, to sit in her old chair, to breathe in the scent of cedar and old books. It was my sanctuary. My parents weren't even allowed to touch the furniture.

"What do you want at the cottage, Maddy? That’s my family’s property. You have no business there."

Maddy let out a cold, mocking laugh. "I remember your grandmother said she wanted me to have that jade bracelet of hers. The 'heirloom.' You were always too stingy to give it to me. Now, I’m going to take what’s mine."

I had taken Maddy there once. My grandmother, in her failing health, had gripped Maddy’s hand and said, "Nate is a difficult boy sometimes, dear. Be patient with him. I have a bracelet for you... a family piece. I’ve tucked it away somewhere safe. When I find it, I'll have Nate give it to you."

That bracelet was my grandmother’s most prized possession. She died the very next day while she was looking for it, her heart giving out in the attic.

I never looked for the bracelet. It felt too painful, too much like a piece of her ghost. At the time, Maddy told me to keep it as a memory. She said she didn't need it.

On the other end of the line, I heard a loud crack—the sound of wood splintering. Then, Tyler’s voice filtered through.

"Got it, Maddy. The door’s open."

"See?" Maddy said, her voice dripping with triumph. "You said it was an heirloom. It’s worth a fortune. I’m just taking what’s owed to me for three years of my life."

The sound of that forced entry—the violation of the only holy place left in my life—sent a surge of white-hot rage through my veins.

"Maddy," I growled, "if you step foot in that house, I will destroy you."