THE MISSING NECKLACE TWO
Jade stared at her reflection in the mirror, the soft glow of the morning light catching the edges of her ruby necklace. It was a striking piece, a family heirloom, but the laugh that escaped her lips was bitter.
“From my grandmother indeed,” she chuckled, her voice tinged with sarcasm. “That old witch refused to acknowledge me as her grandchild until her dying breath.”
Her smile faded as she caught sight of a framed photograph on her desk. It was a picture of her and her mother, their faces frozen in a moment of happiness that felt like a lifetime ago.
She picked it up, her fingers tracing the outline of their faces.
“I still hate you, Mother,” she murmured, her voice breaking slightly. “It could have been any man but him. Then I wouldn’t have to hate myself
