Chương 4
Elodie turned the photograph facedown.
Her father paced between the desk and the door, speaking to three people through an earpiece. Leah worked at the corner table. Thomas coordinated the collection’s removal. Julian waited in the employee room for a human-resources representative to call him.
Marissa and her companions had left through the rear entrance.
Noelle had refused to surrender her phone, which no one had legally been entitled to demand. Kira had apologized to Elodie in a voice so low that Marissa pretended not to hear it.
Marissa had not apologized.
She had said, “You’re going to regret making this bigger than it was.”
Elodie’s father had heard her.
That was the reason two lawyers were now on their way.
Elodie took out her sketchbook. The elastic strap slipped from her fingers twice before she secured it. She opened to a drawing of the Aurelia Collar and stared at the lines without seeing them.
Her mother’s original design had included a small hinge near the center stone. Elodie had drawn it from memory, though the finished necklace no longer used it. She had been six when Adrienne let her bend the first paper model around a cereal bowl.
“Too stiff,” Elodie had said.
Her mother had looked at Gabriel. “Hire her.”
Now men in gray gloves lifted the necklace from the cabinet and settled it into a black transport case.
Elodie watched through the office window.
“No.”
No one heard.
She stood and opened the door.
“Stop.”
The handlers froze. Thomas turned.
Gabriel removed his earpiece. “What is it?”
“You can’t take it.”
“I’m not leaving the collection here.”
“The opening is tomorrow.”
“The opening is canceled.”
“You don’t get to cancel it because someone was rude to me.”
His expression hardened in a way she knew well. Not anger. Fear dressed as certainty.
“This is not about rudeness.”
“It is.”
“This boutique failed to protect you.”
“They didn’t know who I was.”
“That is not a defense.”
“It’s the whole problem.”
The handlers kept their hands suspended over the open case. One of them looked at the floor.
Gabriel walked into the gallery and lowered his voice.
“We are not doing this here.”
“You’re doing everything here.”
“Elodie.”
“Mom wanted people to see it.”
His face changed at the word Mom.
It was a small change. A tightening near the mouth, a glance toward the black velvet stand. Anyone else might have missed it.
Elodie did not.
“She also wanted you safe.”
“From what? Earrings?”
“From adults who use children to protect themselves.”
“That’s what you’re doing.”
Leah stopped typing.
Thomas looked away.
Gabriel’s face emptied. “Go back into the office.”
Elodie’s eyes burned. She refused to blink because tears would turn the argument into something else.
“No.”
“You lied to your driver, left your assigned location, entered a public store alone, and concealed where you were going.”
“I walked around the corner.”
“You broke the agreement.”
“I wanted to see the necklace.”
“You could have asked me.”
“You would have come.”
“Yes.”
“With security. And Thomas. And people carrying water.”
“Because you are eleven.”
“I’m still eleven when they don’t know my name.”
For a second, her father looked as shaken as Marissa had.
Then his phone vibrated.
The moment closed.
Gabriel checked the screen. “The video has passed half a million views.”
Elodie hated him for looking.
She hated herself for wanting to know what people were saying.
She hated the man with the phone, Marissa, the gold card, and the necklace that had drawn her into the boutique in the first place.
“Take it,” she said.
Gabriel watched her walk back into the office.
The collection left Mercer House at four twenty-three.
At four thirty-one, Elodie’s school principal called.
At four forty-six, Marissa Dane posted a statement.
She sat against a cream-colored wall wearing a plain black sweater, her hair lowered from its twin ponytails into a smooth, serious style. There was no music. No jewelry except small gold hoops.
“A deeply misleading video of an interaction involving a minor is circulating online,” she began. “I entered the situation believing an unsupervised child was in a restricted luxury retail space during a private event. My concern was for store policy and safety. I regret that my words may have sounded dismissive when removed from context.”
Elodie watched the statement in the back seat of her father’s car.
Her father had told her not to.
She watched anyway.
Marissa continued, “No child should be targeted online, and I ask my community not to identify or harass anyone involved. I am consulting with the boutique to clarify what occurred.”
“She never said sorry,” Elodie said.
Gabriel sat beside her, staring through the opposite window.
“No.”
“She made it sound like she helped me.”
“Yes.”
“Are you going to sue her?”
“Leah is reviewing our options.”
“That means yes.”
“It means we are reviewing our options.”
“You say that when you already decided.”
He rubbed a hand over his face. “Not tonight.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m angry.”
“You’re always angry now.”
The words came out before she chose them.
Her father went still.
Traffic moved past them in the dark glass: yellow taxis, cyclists, people turning their collars against the cold. Elodie waited for him to correct her. He did not.
His phone vibrated again.
He turned it facedown on the seat.
“That isn’t fair,” he said.
“I know.”
Neither of them apologized.
At home, someone had closed the curtains in the front rooms. The security team had been doubled. A second car waited across the street.
Elodie lived with her father in a limestone townhouse that magazines described as restrained. She had once asked what the house was being restrained from doing. Her mother had laughed so hard she spilled tea on the article.
May you like
Tonight the house felt like a place built to prevent witnesses.
Leah sat at the dining table with two lawyers. A public-relations adviser joined by video from Los Angeles. Elodie’s school had sent an email asking her to remain home on Friday “to allow the community adequate space to respond.”
