Her eyes, sharp and cruel as chips of ice, zeroed in on my chest. “A Sterling daughter-in-law,” she announced, her voice rising slightly, ensuring the nearby clusters of guests could hear every word of the coming execution, “is expected to wear diamonds. An appropriate stone. Something from our vaults, perhaps. Not… that.” She pointed a perfectly manicured, blood-red nail at my locket, the gesture a physical jab. “You simply cannot wear something so… cheap… to your own engagement party. It’s a profound embarrassment.”

My face burned with a heat so intense I felt dizzy. I instinctively covered the locket with my hand, a useless, protective gesture. “It… it was my mother’s,” I stammered, my voice barely a whisper, a pathetic defense against her onslaught. “It’s all I have of her. It means the world to me.”

“How sentimental,” Brenda scoffed, her lip curling in a sneer. Before I could react, she lunged. It was a movement so swift and aggressive it caught me completely off guard. Her manicured hand shot out and gripped the locket, her nails digging into my skin. She yanked it from my neck. The delicate silver chain, a hundred years old and worn thin with love, snapped, leaving a burning red welt on my skin.