Chapter 3: The Necklace

Francesca’s POV

I barely slept because I kept wondering why Julian reacted that way towards my pendant and when Sophie even had time to borrow it.

I had almost forgotten about the necklace until he noticed it. It was one of the few pieces I had designed for myself, a thin gold chain with a small emerald pendant. I had worn it for years. I had no idea why he had looked at it that way. Or why, for a brief second, he seemed unsettled.

By morning, I had convinced myself it meant nothing. I was halfway down the stairs when I heard shouting.

“Let me through!”

I stopped, my hand tightening on the railing. The voice was familiar.

“Sophie.”

I reached the bottom of the stairs just as the front doors opened. Sophie stood in the entrance looking different from the last time I had seen her. Her hair was styled perfectly, her makeup was flawless, and she wore a cream colored dress that made her look fragile and innocent. Exactly how she liked to look when she wanted people to feel sorry for her. Two security guards stood nearby, unsure whether to hold her back.

“Sophie,” I whispered.

Her eyes found mine. “You.”

Julian came out of the hallway. “What’s going on?”

Sophie turned toward him, and her eyes filled with tears almost instantly. “Julian.”

He froze and eventually walked toward her.

“Sophie.”

She rushed into his arms, and I looked away. Of course. She buried her face against his chest. “I tried to come back, but I already told you why I couldn’t.”

His arms stayed at his sides at first, but then he touched her shoulder hesitantly. Her eyes moved toward me over his shoulder. “She wouldn’t let me.”

My head snapped up. “You’re still going on with this story?”

Sophie stepped away from Julian, wiping tears that hadn’t smudged a trace of her makeup. “I told you I didn’t want the wedding and I was afraid of what would happen if I stayed.”

“You’re lying.” My voice came out sharper than I meant.

Julian looked at me. “Francesca.”

“No.” I stepped forward, my hands curling at my sides. “She doesn’t get to walk in here and give some bullshit story.

Sophie flinched and right on cue, Julian moved between us like he needed to shield her from me. “Don’t.”

I laughed. “Of course.”

His eyes narrowed. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“You’ve already chosen who to believe.

“I haven’t.” He denied

“You’re standing in front of her.”

“Because she’s upset.”

“She was upset enough to disappear for days, but apparently not upset enough to tell anyone where she was.”

Sophie dabbed at her tears. “I didn’t know who I could trust.”

I almost laughed. “Cut the bullshit.”

Julian turned toward me and his expression hardened. “You don’t get to insult her.”

“And she doesn’t get to accuse me of things I didn’t do.”

Julian looked at me and that familiar suspicion returned to his eyes. The same look he’d worn on the night of the wedding.

“You really believe this?” I asked

“I don’t know what to believe.” He said slowly, like he wasn’t sure if to speak or not.

I nodded, my throat tight, and turned away. “Francesca.”

His voice had softened, just slightly, and I looked back at him, waiting. He seemed like he wanted to say something else. Instead, “Where are you going?”

“Away from this.”

I walked upstairs. Sophie’s crying trailing behind me but I didn’t turn around once. By the time I reached my room, my hands were shaking. I closed the door and leaned against it. This was exactly what I had expected. Sophie had returned, and somehow I had become the villain in the story.

I walked to the window. Below, I could see Julian standing with Sophie. He was listening to her. She touched his arm and he didn’t move away. I closed the curtains because I didn’t want to watch. I needed something else to occupy my mind.

I picked up my sketchbook and sat at the desk. The page in front of me was still open to the bracelet design I had been working on. I was staring at it, but wasn’t really focusing. Then I remembered the necklace. Julian had looked at it like he recognized it. I reached for the pendant beneath my blouse.

There was something strange about that. I had worn it for years. There was no reason he should know it.

Unless…

I stopped myself. No. That was ridiculous. Julian and I had never met before the wedding. At least, I didn’t think we had. I pushed the thought away and returned to my sketch.

An hour later, a knock on my door. I expected Marta but instead Julian stood outside.

I looked at him. “What?”

His eyes moved briefly to my sketchbook then back to me. “Sophie is staying.”

“I assumed she would.”

“She’ll have the guest room.”

I nodded. “You’re not going to argue?” He asked

“What’s the point?”

Something shifted in his expression, guilt maybe. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

I smiled. “Neither did I.”

He looked down and then his eyes moved to my neck again.

“You’re staring at it again” I said.

His gaze stayed on the pendant. “Sorry.”

Before I could say anything else someone called him from downstairs. “Sophie needs you.”

Julian looked toward the hallway, then back at me. “I should go.”

“Of course.”

He walked away and I watched him disappear.

The necklace.

I had designed it before the masked gala. A night I rarely thought about anymore. A night when I’d met someone I had never seen before. A stranger behind a black mask.

I remembered his voice, his hands, the way he had looked at me like I was the only person in the room. Then I remembered leaving without telling him my name.

I had never seen him again. At least, I thought I hadn’t.

I left my room. The mansion was unusually quiet. Most of the staff were downstairs, and I could hear voices coming from the sitting room. I walked down the opposite hallway instead. I’d never been this far into the mansion. At the end of the corridor was a small library.

I pushed the door open. Rows of books lined the walls. I stepped inside thinking maybe there was something here about the gala. Old photographs, newspaper clippings or anything at all. I walked toward a cabinet near the fireplace. The first drawer contained family photographs and I flipped through them slowly. Julian as a child, Davis, his parents, weddings and business events.

Then I found a black and white photograph from years ago. I almost put it back but something about the date caught my attention.

There were dozens of people in the photograph, all wearing masks. Men in suits, women in gowns and champagne glasses. Near the center of the photograph stood a man wearing a black mask, and beside him, was a woman whose face was hidden but I could see the necklace around her neck.

A thin gold chain with a small emerald pendant shaped like a leaf. It was mine. I turned the photograph over. A handwritten note on the back read Windsor Annual Masquerade Gala, and beneath it was a name.

Julian Windsor.

I stared at the photograph. The man in the picture was wearing the same mask I remembered. The same black suit, the same posture, the same stranger I had met that night.

My breath caught. I looked down at the necklace around my neck, then back at the photograph.

There was only one question I could think of, standing in that library.

Was Julian the masked man I met?