I lifted my head through the searing pain. Howard's voice cut through the noise.
"If something's missing, then search her."
His gaze swept over me, deliberate and pointed.
"Right here. Be thorough."
A security guard seized my arm and hauled me upright, not caring that glass was still embedded in my palms.
"Let go of me! I didn't steal anything!"
The alcohol burned like acid in my stomach. Cold sweat poured down my back.
"Didn't steal it? Well, strip her down and we'll know for sure, won't we?"
Vivienne stepped up onto the raised platform.
"With that dress, there's really only one place she could be hiding something, isn't there?"
A cluster of men in the crowd let out lewd, ugly laughter.
"That's right. The former Graves heiress, a real socialite. Who knows what kind of special tastes she's picked up."
The guard's hand reached for my neckline, already barely holding together.
Riiip.
Black fabric slid away, exposing a wide stretch of skin mottled with bruises.
I screamed and curled into myself, pressing both hands against my chest, trying to cover what was left.
My eyes found Howard through the blur of tears.
He had once sworn, "Anyone who touches a hair on your head, I'll destroy them."
Now he sat with a glass of wine, leaning toward the person beside him, murmuring something in low conversation. He didn't so much as glance in my direction.
"What are you waiting for? Strip her!"
Vivienne's voice cracked with impatience.
The guard grinned and reached for the hem of my dress.
"Hold on."
Howard rose and walked toward me, unhurried. The crowd parted for him without being asked.
He stopped in front of me. The polished toe of his shoe nudged a bloodied shard of glass out of the way.
"Howard, this thief stole my necklace." Vivienne's lips pressed into a thin, displeased line.
"You want every person in this city laughing at the Graves name?" Howard glanced at her, his voice flat and cold. "Does the family want their stock price to open tomorrow, or not?"
Vivienne's mouth opened, then closed.
"So we just... let her go?"
"Take her upstairs. My room."
Howard bent down, his face inches from mine.
"I'll handle the interrogation personally."
Before I could react, he grabbed my wrist, heedless of the glass still buried in my palm, and dragged me toward the elevator.
I stumbled after him, dozens of gloating eyes burning into my back.