Julian stepped forward, took a small velvet pouch from his pocket, and held it open.

Sloane dropped the ring into the pouch.

The sound of the metal hitting the bottom of the velvet was the quietest sound in the room, yet it felt like a thunderclap.

Julian handed the pouch to me.

I pulled the drawstrings tight and held it in my fist, the sharp corners of the diamond pressing into my palm.

“Now, Ms. Mercer, Mr. Caldwell,” Ramirez said, gesturing toward the heavy oak doors of the chapel. “Let’s step outside.”

Sloane wiped her nose with the back of her sleeve and walked down the aisle, her heels clicking a fast, frantic rhythm.

Graham did not follow her immediately.

He took two steps toward me, his boots heavy on the carpeted steps of the altar.

Julian shifted his weight, placing himself directly between us.

“Step back, Graham,” Julian said.

Graham ignored him, looking over Julian’s shoulder straight at me.

“You think this is over because you got your grandmother’s little trinket back?” Graham said, his voice dropping to a low, venomous register.