The only one benefitting from me keeping up the charade of being Other Elodie isme. How can I be so selfish that I don’t care about the damage I’m doing—that I’ve already done?
I’m a lying liar who lies… but I never wanted to be.
I should just go. Go far, far away where I won’t interfere with any more lives, where I can pretend I was never here, and find peace in knowing I saved the rest of them.
The painful relief of that thought propels me to the walk-in closet. I grab the largest of Other Elodie’s handbags, a massive tote in pearly leather. Roving through the closet with all the grace of a poltergeist, I stuff in handfuls of panties and socks, an extra bra, and the least flashy shirts and pants I can set my hands on.
I’ll need to pay my way. The credit cards saved on Elodie’s phone will cover the first part of my journey, but her family will shut those off once I’m gone. And I’ll have to ditch the phone to make sure no one traces it.
Easy enough. My double might not have kept very good track of her jewelry, but that’s partly because she has heaps of the stuff. A few well-chosen pieces will allow me to survive until I find other means. It’s not as if losing a handful will put a dent in the family fortune.
I yank open the drawers of the jewelry case and paw through the contents. This diamond-studded bracelet should be worth a nice chunk of change and won’t take up much room. Same with these multi-carat diamond earrings. The sapphire choker in a Tiffany box seems like a safe bet too.
I shift aside a couple of folded silk scarfs in the lowest drawer and freeze.
Hidden away at the bottom of the drawer is a necklace that launches a knife straight through my heart. Intricate gold filigree dotted with small rubies and pearls descends to a whirl of goldwith a larger ruby at its center. Every intertwined twist and loop of the gold is breathtakingly delicate.
It’s my mother’s bridal necklace.
However she shrugged off most of her ties to her family, she wanted to pay tribute to her culture of origin in a few ways at her and Dad’s wedding. She picked a dress that was Western in styling but vibrant red, and this necklace in a more traditional South Asian style. I can’t remember how many times I paused to admire it in the wedding photo she kept on her bedroom dresser.
It was the only piece of jewelry she held on to throughout her years of struggling to meet Luminary’s tuition fees. Every other piece Dad bought for her got pawned over the years.
And then, when she died, it became mine. Putting the same decision in my hands.
I can’t stop myself from pulling back the tissue one more time to take in every intricate detail. The pearls gleam. The rubies twinkle.
A lump clogs my throat.
Byron’s voice carries from the doorway, rough with concern. “What are you doing, Elodie?”
My hands twitch over the necklace, wishing I’d kept it tucked away, but he’s seen it now. I can’t lie my way out of this one.
“We’ve got two more tuition payments to go this year, and I haven’t been able to pick up much work in the last couple of months… The money’s got to come from somewhere.”
My matches would drop out before they’d let me do the same, and there’s no way in hell I’m letting them make yet another huge sacrifice.
Byron’s face falls. “So you’re going to sell— Isn’t that your mother’s wedding necklace?”
“What?” Salvatore pushes past him into the room. “No fucking way, Elodie. Don’t even think about it. That’s yours—it’s the main thing she left you.”
His insistence makes it even harder to speak. “Itisjust a thing.”
Byron steps closer and touches my shoulder. “We all know that nothing is ‘just’ a thing. It carries the ephemera of the life she had with your dad and you. You need to hold on to that.”
How can he say it so easily, after he and Salvatore left their families behind to be with me?
As I grope for words, Cole appears at the doorway. “What’s going on?”
Salvatore spins toward him, his tone defiant. “Our match was going to give up her mom’s necklace to take care ofus.” His tone suggests this is the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard.
For a second, I think Cole will get me out of this mess. He might not be quite as practical as Byron, but he’s the least swayed by sentimentality out of my fated mates.
As his gaze meets mine, his expression hardens, but not the way I imagined. “Absolutely not, Elodie. It’s yours, and it’s going to stay yours. We have other ways.”
I come back to the present with tears drawing cool streaks down my cheeks. I swipe at them, catching my breath. When I look at the stuffed purse next to me, my stomach lurches.
Was I really going to give up and abandon the matches who stuck by me through so much? What would they say about that?
