Chapter 4 - The Recovery and the Retaliation
By eleven that morning, Adrian had tracked Sophia to the Drake Hotel, where she was enjoying brunch with several prominent socialites from the wedding party.
According to the hotel staff, Adrian marched into the Palm Court with two armed security officers. The arrogance that usually characterized Sophia’s public appearances vanished the moment she saw his thunderous expression.
"Adrian!" she had purred, rising from her velvet chair, holding out her slender wrist where the emerald bracelet caught the chandelier light. "Did you see the photos? The Walker family was so welcoming—"
"Take it off," Adrian commanded, his voice cutting across the room, silencing the surrounding tables.
Sophia froze, her face draining of color. "What? Adrian, what are you talking about?"
"Take off Eleanor’s bracelet. Right now."
"You said I could wear it for the weekend!" she whispered, moisture welling in her eyes, leaning in so the other women wouldn't hear. "You said Claire wouldn't care, that she’s never even worn it out—"
"I don't care what I said," Adrian snapped, stepping forward. His voice carried the brutal coldness he usually reserved for dock strikes. "Take it off, Sophia, or my security detail will remove it from your wrist and escort you to the precinct for grand larceny."
The gasps from her brunch companions were instantaneous. For a woman whose entire identity rested on her fabricated image of old-money refinement and Adrian’s unfailing devotion, the humiliation was absolute. Trembling, her face blotched with crimson shame, Sophia unhooked the clasp with trembling fingers and placed it onto the velvet tray held by Adrian’s guard.
"How could you do this to me?" she sobbed, looking up at him. "In front of everyone?"
Adrian didn't look at her tears. For the first time in ten years, her helplessness didn't stir his protective instinct; it made him sick to his stomach. "Do not contact me again, Sophia. Not through my office. Not through my security. If you set foot near my home or my family, I will invoke every outstanding promissory note your father signed."
He spun on his heel and walked out, clutching the velvet box in his fist.
Thirty minutes later, Adrian arrived at my Gold Coast townhouse. He didn't knock; he rang repeatedly until my housekeeper let him into the parlor.
He looked exhausted, his hair disheveled, holding the box out toward me like an offering. "Here, Claire. Look. I got it back. It’s right here. She doesn't have it anymore."
I looked at the box on the glass table. "Did you think this was just about a piece of jewelry, Adrian?"
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"I humiliated her in front of all her friends!" he cried, running both hands through his hair. "I cut her off completely! Isn't that what you wanted?"
"No," I replied softly. "That is what you needed to do to save your job from your father. What I wanted was a husband who respected me enough not to banish me from his side in the first place."
