Pinned to the velvet lapel of Brielle’s jacket was the diamond brooch with platinum filigree that had disappeared from my bedroom jewelry box three weeks before.

I looked at the curling floral scrollwork of the platinum filigree and the brilliant stone in the middle.

“You ought to see this as generous, Vivian,” Rosalind said, her fingernail keeping up its steady beat on the wood.

“Most women in your position walk away with far less.”

“Is that why you filed an insurance loss claim on my platinum brooch last month, Spencer?” I asked.

Spencer went still with his hand on the blue folder, his jaw clenching as he looked up from the page.