Serene
"I'm leaving." Casper's voice is low, tight, and final.
The auction is still technically ongoing. Applause from the one-hundred-million-dollar disaster hasn't fully faded. The cameras are still flashing. People are still whispering.
We should stay. We should smile. We should look untouchable, but Casper isn't asking. He's done.
"We can't walk out now," I whisper sharply. "That will look worse."
"It already looks worse," he replies with his jaw clenched.
He doesn't look at me when he says it. That's what unsettles me.
The velvet necklace case sits like a bomb between us. Even through the gloves, I feel its weight.
The auctioneer calls the next item, but Casper rises anyway.
"Come on," he says stiffly.
He takes my elbow, not roughly, but not gently eith
