I hauled myself onto the pier, drenched and pale, but my eyes cut sharper than tempered steel.
Liam Farley stumbled back a step.
Like he'd seen a ghost.
I strode straight toward Evelyn Fox. Right in front of him, I raised the so-called heirloom ring.
My fingers tightened.
*Crack.*
The gemstone setting buckled, metal pinching into a distorted oval. I tossed it casually. It rolled across the concrete and came to rest against Evelyn's custom leather shoe.
"Fake." I ripped off the respirator, a sneer curling my lip. "Just like your people—gold-plated trash."
The scrape against concrete had peeled away a patch of plating, exposing the cheap, ugly brass beneath.
Evelyn's face drained of color. She looked at Liam in panic.
He stared at the ring on the ground, stunned, then shifted his gaze to my dripping face.
He forgot to breathe.
Slowly, he bent down and retrieved the deformed ring. The mottled copper rust seemed to stab at his eyes. His face turned a livid shade of gray. He whipped his head around to glare at Evelyn, the accusation lodged in his throat like broken glass.
Suddenly, the giant LED advertising screen on the pier blazed to life.
