Ginger stepped closer to me, her eyes narrowing as she glared at the necklace around my neck. "Take it off," she demanded, pointing at the chain. "You don’t have the right to wear that."
I raised an eyebrow and met her glare with one of my own. "I’m not giving you anything. It’s mine."
"Yours?" Ginger let out a sarcastic laugh. "Stop lying. You stole it. Hand it over, or I’ll take it from you myself."
She reached for the necklace, her fingers brushing the gold chain, but I quickly stepped back, swatting her hand away.
"Don’t touch me," I snapped, my temper flaring.
"You don’t deserve it!" Ginger hissed, her anger erupting as she lunged at me again.
We struggled, her nails scraping against my neck as I pushed her hands away. The noise drew the attention of both the police officers and Daniel.
"Enough!" A commanding voice rang out, silencing the chaos in an instant.
Everyone turned toward the door, where a tall, poised woman stood—my mother.
“Lady Leanne,” Ginger said, her voice faltering as she stepped back. “You’re here… I didn’t expect you to come in person.” She pointed at me quickly. “This woman stole your jewelry. We're sure of it. You should punish her!”
Leanne Whitaker’s eyes swept over the room, her expression unreadable as she looked at the jewelry, then back at Ginger. “Yes, that jewelry is mine,” she said calmly.
Ginger smirked, satisfied, and turned to Daniel. “See? I told you. Anyway, Miss Whitaker, we’re here to return it and—”
“So,” she said, cutting her off, “you must be the fiancée of that bastard who hurt my daughter.”
Ginger’s face dropped. “What?”
“You heard me,” Leanne said coolly. “Hurt. My. Daughter.”
Ginger blinked rapidly, her mind racing to process the words. “Your… daughter?” she asked, her voice shaky as she slowly turned to me.
Leanne gestured toward me with a graceful wave. “Yes. Tracie Whitaker, my daughter. Why else do you think she has my jewelry?"
The room erupted in gasps.
Ginger and Daniel turned to stare at me, their mouths open in shock.
Daniel shook his head, his voice trembling. “How… How is that possible? No, I've known Tracie since high school and she's this poor---”
I stood, meeting his disbelieving gaze. “Poor girl? Well, too bad, I wasn't the poor girl you thought. If only you believed me when I said it.”
The police officers shifted uncomfortably, their authority shrinking under Leanne’s piercing glare.