Cade’s eyes flicked toward me.
For the first time all afternoon, he looked uncertain.
Years earlier, before we married, Cade had insisted on a prenup.
He had called it practical.
His family had old Charleston money, old Charleston habits, and an almost religious belief that anything important should have signatures beneath it.
Cade wanted his investments protected.
His family wanted their trusts protected.
He wanted absolute clarity over what belonged to whom if the marriage ended.
My mother had agreed immediately.
That should have warned him.
She arrived at the negotiations with her own attorney and a typed inventory of heirlooms she intended to give me during her lifetime or leave to me after her death.
Jewelry.
Paintings.
Letters.
Silver.
A few pieces of furniture that had been in our family for generations.
And one strand of pearls.
Cade barely looked at that schedule.
He cared about brokerage accounts and property values.
To him, jewelry was decoration.
To my mother, some objects were memory with a clasp.
The final agreement stated that listed inherited heirlooms remained my separate property regardless of where they were stored in the marital home.
They could not be gifted, pledged, transferred, sold, or removed by Cade without my written authorization.
There was more.
My mother had insisted that any unauthorized transfer during a pending separation had to be disclosed immediately in the divorce proceedings.
Cade had signed every page.
He had even initialed the heirloom schedule.
Lydia lifted a photocopy.
“Your initials are beside the pearl necklace, Cade.”
He stared at the paper.
Savannah stared at him.
“You told me they were yours.”
“They were in my house.”
I finally spoke.
“Our house.”
His head snapped toward me.
“And my safe.”
Another whisper moved through the room.
Cade’s father shifted in his seat.
Savannah took one step away from Cade.
“You said Ellie left them behind.”
There it was.
Not an apology.
Not yet.
But the first crack between them.
Cade lowered his voice.
“Savannah, don’t engage with this.”
She looked at him as if she had only just realized the performance might not be under his control.
Lydia removed another sheet.
“The safe was locked.”
Cade laughed once.
It sounded forced.
“And how exactly would she prove I opened it?”
Lydia looked at me.
That was my turn.
I took my phone from my bag but did not unlock it.
