The emeralds weighed heavy against her collarbone, colder than the diamonds that usually draped her.
Sebastian had chosen them himself, pressing the velvet box into her hand with a look that brooked no refusal, the kind of look that left no room for negotiation.
"They'll remind everyone who you belong to," he had said, voice low, controlled, almost tender in its menace.
Now, as the elevator doors slid open into the glittering heights of the Waldorf ballroom, Aria felt the necklace like a leash. The chandelier light fractured across crystal glasses and champagne towers, scattering rainbows that mocked her. Music swelled, violins weaving over murmurs of New York's elite. Every note, every rustle of silk, every whisper of admiration or jealousy seemed to vibrate directly against her nerves.
Every eye turned toward her and Sebastian as they entered.
They were the perfect picture: the billionaire and his flawless wife.
