Chapter 8 - THE DIAMOND NECKLACE
Paul stared at the train ticket in my hand, the last shreds of his lies disintegrating into the damp air.
“I panicked, Marianne,” he pleaded, pathetic and bleeding on the concrete. “Marcus told me she had an accident. He said if I didn’t just walk away, he’d kill Tommy too. I was trying to save myself so I could come back for him later!”
“You are a coward,” Mr. Falcone said coldly, not taking his eyes off Marcus on the floor.
I walked over to Paul. I didn’t yell. I didn’t cry. Twenty-six years of devotion had burned down to cold, hard ash.
“Where is my money, Paul?” I asked quietly.
Paul swallowed hard. “Marcus took it. It’s in his car.”
Mr. Falcone nodded to the remaining loyal guard, who quickly jogged out to the parking lot. A minute later, he returned carrying a heavy black duffel bag. He unzipped it and dumped the contents onto the floor.
Stacks of hundred-dollar bills spilled across the concrete. A hundred and sixty thousand dollars. My retirement. Lauren’s settlement.
But something else tumbled out with the cash.
It was a velvet jewelry box.
Lauren let out a sharp gasp. She stepped forward and picked it up, flipping the lid open. Inside rested a heavy, glittering diamond necklace.
“That’s my grandmother’s,” Lauren whispered. “It went missing from my house a week after I met you.”
She looked at Paul, her face a mask of pure disgust. “You didn’t just con me for the divorce money. You robbed my home.”
Paul didn’t answer. He just lowered his head to the concrete.
I looked at Mr. Falcone. He was a ruthless man, a criminal in his own right, but tonight, he was the only justice in this room.
“Mr. Falcone,” I said steadily. “I believe my shift is over.”
May you like
He lowered the gun and smiled, a sharp, dangerous expression.
“Indeed it is, Marianne.” He nodded toward the cash on the floor. “Take what belongs to you. Take what belongs to Lauren. I will handle the trash.”
