Chapter 2

2

She tried to grab my arm and pull me into a corner.

"Let's talk over there. Let's not disturb the staff while they're working."

I let out a sharp, cold laugh.

Usually, she was all "Sister Clara" this and "Sister Clara" that.

She used to be so sweet and bubbly around me.

Now that her little charade was being threatened, she could barely look me in the eye.

I shoved her hand off me and stepped back, making sure my voice carried.

"Macy Reed, why don't you explain why you're living in the suite my family booked for me?"

"And while you're at it, explain why you're wearing my jewelry."

The people in the lobby turned to stare.

Macy's expression soured, but then, the waterworks started.

Her eyes welled up with tears in an instant.

"Clara, what are you talking about? My husband booked this place because he loves me."

"He bought me this jewelry to celebrate our baby. Why are you claiming it's yours?"

She looked at the crowd with a pitying expression.

"Is your husband not treating you well? I heard pregnancy depression can make women imagine things..."

The murmurs from the crowd changed tone.

"Is that what pregnancy brain does? She looks like she's lost her mind."

"I heard that suite costs over a hundred grand. Look at that woman in the cheap dress. She doesn't look like she has a hundred dollars to her name."

"She's probably just bitter. Poor thing, taking it out on a happy couple."

I didn't care what these strangers thought.

I looked Macy dead in the eye and sneered.

"I didn't realize you were such a talented thief."

I turned back to the receptionist, my voice steady.

"When this woman checked in, did you verify her ID? I'd love to know how she bypassed your security."

The receptionist hesitated.

"Mrs. Thorne said she lost her ID during the move. We didn't push for it because her husband, Mr. Thorne, was with her."

"He confirmed her identity. Why would a husband lie about his own wife?"

I raised an eyebrow, a bitter smile tugging at my lips.

"So, just because a man says so, you ignore all protocols? You don't think that's a bit reckless for a high-end establishment?"

The receptionist opened her mouth to argue, but Macy cut her off, sounding like a saint.

"Clara, she's just doing her job. Why are you being so difficult?"

"Not everyone can afford the best. You should just accept your reality."

She was painting me as a jealous, delusional harasser.

Right then, her phone buzzed.

The caller ID said "Hubby."

Macy's face stiffened for a heartbeat.

I knew it was Caleb.

"Answer it," I challenged. "I want to hear exactly how Caleb Thorne explains this."