Chapter 3

A few minutes later, two consular officers walked into the ballroom.

Dark suits, grim faces — completely out of place among the gowns and champagne.

"Mr. Bastien Thorne. Mr. Gage Merritt." The lead officer pulled a sealed evidence bag from his briefcase. "We intercepted this item at a black market on the edge of the Sahara. Initial verification confirms it belongs to Miss Sable Merritt."

He opened the bag and set the contents on the table.

A metal necklace. The chain broken, the surface scratched up, crusted with dark, dried blood.

Bastien had put it around my neck himself, the day he proposed. It held a pinch of my parents' ashes. When the raiders broke my hands and feet, I'd fought to keep it. They tore it off anyway.

Bastien stared at the necklace. His pupils contracted, just slightly.

"How much did she pay you to put on this little show?" He didn't reach for it. "To ruin my engagement party with Posey, she'd even fake her own death. That's low, even for her."

Gage stepped forward and snatched the bag, pinching the necklace through the plastic. He sneered. "Is that blood on there? Sable really has no shame left. Tell her we're done with the cry-wolf act."

"Sir, this isn't an act!" The officer's voice rose. "That blood tested positive as human. The outpost is in terrible shape, crawling with raiders. If she really spent three months out there alone, her odds of survival are next to nothing!"

"Enough."

Bastien cut him off.

"Bastien, don't be upset..." Posey tugged at his sleeve right on cue, her eyes going pink. "Maybe Sable really is in danger... maybe we should send someone to check."

"What danger could she possibly be in? She's spent her whole career surveying places worse than that outpost." Bastien cut Posey off too, his eyes still locked on the necklace. "She timed this on purpose, just to mess with us. Does she really think a piece of junk like this is going to make me cave? Make me leave you to go running after her?"

He looked at the two officers.

"She wants to play dead? Fine. Let her die out there."

The moment he said it, he hurled the necklace at the fireplace.

The metal pendant hit the marble and bounced off. The clasp shattered. A small handful of pale gray powder spilled out, scattering into the ashes below.

That was my parents. That was the last thing tying me to this world.

Good. Bastien, you just destroyed the last thread between us.

The officer reached out to stop it. He was too late.

Bastien clapped his hands and told the butler, "Show these two out. If Sable sends anyone else to bother us, call the police."

Security dragged the two officers toward the door. At the doorway, the lead officer turned back. His voice wasn't loud, but it carried.

"Mr. Thorne, we're not here to run her errands. You'll see."

The door shut.

The party picked back up like nothing had happened.

Some time later — I couldn't say how long — Bastien turned and pulled a velvet box from his pocket, holding it out to Posey.

She opened it. A pink diamond ring sat inside. She covered her mouth, tears welling up. Bastien took her hand and slid the ring onto her finger. Gage started the applause. Guests raised their glasses.

Just as Bastien leaned down to kiss her, the ballroom doors flew open from outside, hard enough to slam into the wall.

The music cut off. Every head turned toward the entrance.

The same two officers. But this time, a group of medical examiners in white coats followed behind them.

And four workers in white gloves, carrying a sealed silver transport casket, walking slowly into the room.

"You—" Gage lunged forward. "I told you to get out! Who said you could bring something like that in here!"

The officer ignored him. He pulled out a document stamped in red and slapped it down on the table in front of Bastien.

"Mr. Thorne. We've reached out to your legal team through official channels three separate times, requesting confirmation and release of the remains. All three went unanswered. Since the family has repeatedly refused to cooperate, we have no choice but to deliver this in front of witnesses and request identification on site."

Bastien's eyelid twitched, but he kept up that arrogant front. He let out a cold laugh.

"Quite the production. Tell Sable she can keep that coffin for herself."

The officer looked at him. Something like pity crossed his face.

"Mr. Thorne, Sable Merritt doesn't need to put on an act anymore."

"Because she's already inside it."

Dead silence.

Posey let out a short scream and ducked behind Bastien.

The smirk on Bastien's face froze. He stared at the document, his lips trembling for a second — but the stubborn arrogance came rushing right back.

"Impossible. This has to be forged. That woman has the survival instincts of a cockroach. There's no way she's dead. This is just another one of her stunts."

"Since the family doesn't believe us." The officer turned and nodded to the examiners.

"Let's confirm it right here. Open it."

The seal released, the sound cutting through the silence, sharp and clear.

The four workers stepped up and gripped the lid. It swung open, slow.

A thick smell rolled out — embalming fluid mixed with decay. The guests in the front row clapped their hands over their mouths and stumbled back.

Bastien and Gage stood frozen where they were.