Her perfect composure had completely vanished, replaced by a frantic, sweating desperation.

“Where did you get that?” she whispered, pointing a trembling finger at my collarbone.

She was staring directly at the sapphire pendant resting against my throat.

The heavy gold filigree felt cold against my skin.

“It belongs to me,” I said.

“That is a lie,” Miranda spat, taking a step closer. “That piece is not yours. It could not possibly be yours.”

Julian stepped between us, his gaze moving from his mother’s pale face to the necklace.

“Mother, calm down,” Julian said, his voice quiet but firm. “You are making herself ill over a piece of jewelry.”

“You don’t understand, Julian,” Miranda said, her eyes never leaving my face. “She is doing this on purpose. She came into my house, took my money, cleaned my floors, and now she wears this to my event.”

She turned back to me, her lips curling into a snarl.

“You are a maid, Valerie,” she said. “A thief who stole a relic from a dead man’s collection.”

“I did not steal anything, Mrs. Sterling,” I said, keeping my voice level.