The camera zoomed in on Spencer, who was talking to several businessmen, looking cold, confident, and proud.

Then Paisley’s hand appeared, adjusting his tie as though she were making a claim in front of everyone. Finally, she looked at the camera and moved her lips silently to say: “It’s mine.”

The numbness suddenly lifted and a strange calm settled over me. I looked at my ring finger, which still had the mark of the ring Spencer had asked me to take off three days earlier because, according to him, it didn’t look good. The very next day, I noticed an enormous diamond on Paisley’s hand.

Someone knocked on the door. “Madam,” said Gladys, “there’s a gentleman downstairs who says he’s come for you. He arrived in a Bentley.”

I hurried downstairs. In the living room was Joel, my father’s driver since I was a child, standing tall, dressed in black, his eyes shining with restrained emotion.