The ballroom was deserted, save for the shattered crystal vase at its center, water pooling beside vibrant orchids. Evelyn, the event organizer, stood frozen, her gaze darting to Lord Hampton, who claimed his family’s priceless ruby had been stolen.
The guests had left hours ago, but Evelyn recalled every detail. With a deep breath, she replayed the scene in her mind. Lord Hampton had strutted in, ruby glinting proudly at his collar. Hours later, as champagne glasses clinked, she noticed Mrs. Thorne brushing against him, her sequined glove catching the ruby’s light. But Mrs. Thorne had left early.
Then it struck her. The shattered vase. Evelyn knelt, fishing a soggy glove from the water. It glimmered faintly. She turned it over—wedged in the fabric was the ruby.
Lord Hampton’s jaw tightened as she raised it. “You dropped this, didn’t you?” she asked. He sighed, defeated. The theft was staged—he’d hoped to claim insurance money for the gem. Evelyn placed the ruby in her pocket, promising the truth would follow the next day. Justice, it seemed, always glittered through the cracks.
Leave a Reply