Chapter 10 - The Confiscation
When Claire marched down to the southern boat cottage, she kicked the heavy oak door open with a resounding bang that rattled the windows.
Adrian, who was sitting wrapped in a coarse wool blanket beside a smoking hearth, jumped to his feet in shock. He looked haggard, with dark circles etched into his pale skin, but the feverish trembling had subsided.
"Claire? What—"
Claire hurled the velvet pouch onto the table in front of him. The bracelet spilled out across the rough pine, the sapphires glittering under the morning light.
"Look at it, Adrian," she commanded, her voice vibrating with suppressed fury.
He blinked, utterly confused. "Claire, I gave it to you last night. I swore to you it’s the one—"
"It is a fake!" Claire’s voice cracked like a whip across the small room. "It is a cheap, five-thousand-dollar imitation! The stones are synthetic, the platinum is rhodium-plated silver, and Eleanor’s hallmark is missing! Sophia swapped the stones and sold your grandmother’s heirloom to pay off her debts, and you were so pathetically desperate to play the repentant hero that you didn't even examine what you brought to my feet!"
Adrian stared at the jewelry on the table, horror dawning across his features. He reached out with trembling fingers, picking up the bracelet, examining the setting with the loupe Claire threw beside it. As the truth sank into his mind, an agonized, guttural scream tore from his throat.
"No... no, no, no!" He dropped the loupe, clutching his head, pacing the small room like a caged animal. "She wouldn't... she couldn't have!"
"She did," Claire said icily. "While you were basking in the fantasy of rescuing your fragile childhood sweetheart, she was laughing behind your back, plundering your family's vault and turning your grandmother’s legacy into pawn shop cash."
Adrian’s face twisted into an expression Claire had never seen on him before. The remorse and self-pity vanished, replaced by a dark, terrifying fury that seemed to awaken the ruthless Moretti bloodline within him. The spoiled, naive boy died in that instant; what took his place was a man whose aristocratic pride had been dragged through the gutter.
"Thomas!" Adrian roared, storming toward the door.
The security guard appeared instantly on the threshold. "Sir?"
"Call the head of our private security detail in Chicago," Adrian snarled, his voice guttural and lethal. "I want Sophia Reynolds tracked. I want every high-end jeweler, pawn broker, and private collector within a five-hundred-mile radius locked down by noon. If she tried to sell that stone, someone has a paper trail. And if she hides it..." Adrian grabbed his damp jacket, pulling it on with violent force. "...I will tear her life apart brick by brick until she coughs it up."
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He stopped at the door, turning to Claire. His eyes burned with an intense, desperate fire.
"I will find the real bracelet, Claire," he swore, his voice dropping to a low, deadly vow. "I will bring it back to you, or I will not return at all."
