Chapter 3

He paused for just a second, then reached over and flicked my nose.

"You're so silly. It's a holiday, babe."

His voice was warm and indulgent.

"I wanted to stock up on essentials for my girl. Is that a crime? It's not like I haven't bought them for you before."

He stretched out on his side of the bed, lazily twirling a strand of my hair around his fingers.

"Besides, I've noticed you always buy them on sale around this time of year and stockpile them. This year, you don't have to worry about it. I took care of it."

I kept my eyes on him.

"Then why this brand? And why did you get so many daytime ones?"

"Everyone online says this brand is good. Light and breathable."

He answered immediately, his eyes never flickering.

"I've seen you buy the thick cotton ones. Thought you might want to try something different. And the daytime kind works on regular days too, not just during your period. More convenient."

As he spoke, he reached over to his nightstand and pulled out a small blue velvet box.

"And of course, that's not all."

He handed it to me, looking a little pleased with himself.

"You didn't think I'd only get you pads for the holiday, did you? Open it."

Inside was a pearl necklace. The pearls were large and perfectly round, with a warm, lustrous glow. One look and you could tell it wasn't cheap.

"South Sea pearls. They'll look beautiful on you."

He lifted the necklace out and moved to clasp it around my neck.

"Do you like it?"

I stared at those cold, round beads and didn't move.

"What's wrong?"

He looked at me.

"Nothing."

I closed the lid and set the box aside.

"It's expensive, I'm sure. It's just... I think I mentioned before that I don't really like pearls."

"Did you?"

Damien blinked, thinking for a moment.

"I don't remember that. But women can never have too much jewelry. Every piece counts. Look at any woman worth her salt --- they all have pearls."

My heart sank, piece by piece. He didn't remember.

When he was pursuing me hardest, I'd told him about my past.

After my mom died, my dad moved on fast --- with a woman he'd been seeing on the side.

She drained most of what was left of our family's money, then showed up at our house wearing a thick strand of round pearl bracelets, like she owned the place. She drove me out, and I ended up growing up in a group home.

That year, in the middle of a snowstorm, I'd cried and told him:

"I hate pearls. Every time I see them, I think of that woman. And of my dad, who threw me away."

He'd held me so tight it hurt, and swore:

"I will never let you see a single pearl for the rest of your life. I'll make sure you never have to think about any of that again."

And now, he was holding out a pearl necklace and saying:

"I don't remember that."

"Thank you, honey."

I forced a smile and took the box.

"My stomach's acting up a little. You go to sleep first."

I slipped into the bathroom and locked the door.

The pads weren't for me. He'd given me jewelry I'd specifically told him I hated. Damien was lying.

I'd already checked his phone and found nothing.

But wait --- there was one more thing.

There was a name in his contacts that stood out from all the rest.

Jade. A college student he sponsored --- a girl who'd grown up in poverty and earned her way into a top university in the city. I had been the one who'd agreed to support her.

I remembered her --- small and thin, a little timid when she'd come to dinner at our place once. Quiet about most things, but her eyes lit up when she talked about school.

Damien had said at the time:

"That girl's got a real fire in her. Reminds me of you back in the day."

So why did he have at least some kind of message history with every other woman in his contacts ---

But with Jade, nothing? Not a single message?

Her chat log was completely blank. Clean as glass after a rainstorm. You could see straight through it.

Too clean.