Page 119 of What Goes Around

Snippets carried across the room as my parents spoke with two men near the bar.

“…remarkable control for someone so young…”

“…French diction was flawless, almost native level…”

“…that voice has depth, not just range…”

My father stood with them, nodding and smiling in that vague, proprietary way he had perfected. As if this had always been part of a plan. As if he had always known. Always supported me.

Marissa stood just behind him, expression tight, trying and failing to steer the conversation back toward Apple and her performance.

We talked about nothing and everything. School being over, summer plans, how unreal it felt to be here instead of worrying about finals. Payton rambled happily. Amy listened, observant, her gaze occasionally sweeping the room.

And somewhere across the hall, I could feel Apple watching.

Plotting.

Chapter 37: Three Moves Ahead

In my last life, it had started the same way. Midway through the party, Apple suddenly cried out that her grandmother’s heirloom bracelet was missing. She said it had not matched her dress, so she had placed it safely in her clutch. She cried openly, devastated, insisting it was precious, an heirloom that meant everything to her.

And then, somehow, it had been found in my handbag.

Most likely she’d paid a waiter to slip it inside while circulating between the tables. The same waiter had “accidentally” knocked my bag to the floor so it spilled open, the bracelet tumbling out in full view. Proof, delivered on cue.

They said I was jealous. That I’d stolen it.

No matter what I said, no one believed me. Marissa had smiled tightly and suggested we discuss it at home, urging the party to continue while whispers followed me behind polite smiles.

I remembered the humiliation.

So when it happened again, when Apple’s voice cut through the low hum of conversation, sharp and panicked enough to draw attention, I knew exactly what she was trying to do.

“Oh no.” Apple pressed a hand to her chest. “My bracelet. Where is my bracelet?”

Heads turned. Conversations faltered.

“That bracelet was just here,” she continued. “I took it off because it didn’t match my dress, and I put it in my clutch. I swear I did.”

Here we go again.

“Everyone, please help look,” someone said.

Guests began to search. Someone crouched. Someone else lifted tablecloths slightly. People checked under chairs, beneath tables, even near the stage. Nearly ten minutes passed like that, but nothing surfaced.

My father’s patience snapped first.

“Apple,” he said, clearly displeased now, embarrassment edging into his voice. “How could you be so careless? It was on your wrist, wasn’t it?”

“I know,” she said shakily. “I am sorry, Dad. I did not mean to. I took it off because it did not match my dress and put it in my clutch. I swear it was there. I do not understand how it could just disappear.”

She looked exactly like an innocent girl who had misplaced something precious.

Marissa stepped in immediately.

“Brandon, don’t blame her,” she said, hand smoothing Apple’s back. “Maybe she just forgot where she put it. The hall isn’t that big, and everyone here is a friend. We’ll find it.”

A woman nearby nodded. “She is right. Apple, think. Where did you put it last?”