THE LETTER Y
727 Words
There were many things Avery regretted about the last three days. Taking Yvonne's necklace was near the top of the list.
Her stepsister had cornered her at breakfast, furious.
“You went into my jewelry box,” Yvonne accused.
Avery continued stirring her coffee. “Good morning to you, too.”
“The gold pendant. The one Dad gave me. It's missing.”
Avery's spoon stopped.
The pendant had never really belonged to Yvonne. Avery had designed it in her first semester of jewelry school, a delicate geometric knot enclosing a single initial. Her father had loved the prototype so much he'd promised to commission it in gold as a gift for her.
When the finished piece arrived, he'd given it to Yvonne instead. Even the original A had been replaced by a Y.
Avery had been angry enough to borrow it from her stepsister's jewelry box before the yacht party. She had intended to confront her father, not lose the necklace on a stranger's floor.
“I'll find it,” she said.
Yvonne planted both hands on the table. “That better be a promise.”
Avery watched her leave, then stared at the empty space where the pendant should have rested against her collarbone.
What if the man from Cabin 306 had found it?
What if that man was Adrian Blackwood?
She was still turning the question over when a courier delivered an envelope from Blackwood Holdings. Inside were the revised contract pages, an independent escrow proposal, and an authorization form granting her direct access to Ethan's medical team.
There was also a brief handwritten note.
You asked for proof. Review everything before you decide.
— A. Blackwood
Avery read the note twice.
An hour later, she sat across from Adrian in his Manhattan office.
His windows overlooked the city. The glass and steel furnishings were immaculate, the shelves almost entirely empty. It was an office designed to reveal nothing about the person who owned it.
“Your lawyer can review the escrow,” Adrian said. “The clinic has agreed to a video consultation tomorrow.”
Avery glanced up. “You actually called them.”
“I said I would.”
“People say lots of things.”
“Then judge me by what I do.”
She wanted to point out that what he was doing still amounted to negotiating a marriage through her family's desperation. Instead, she turned another page.
“You haven't answered the main question,” she said. “Why are you marrying me?”
“Because the Bennett name means something to me.”
“Something bad?”
He didn't deny it.
Avery set down the papers. “Was my mother involved?”
Adrian's eyes narrowed.
“Who told you that?”
“No one. You keep looking at me as though I'm responsible for something that happened before I was old enough to understand it.”
His phone buzzed. He silenced it without looking away from her.
“Some debts outlive the people who incurred them,” he said.
Avery stood. “Then send the bill to the person who owes it.”
She had reached the door when something on a side table caught the light.
A gold pendant.
A geometric knot.
A single engraved letter.
Y.
Her breath caught.
“Where did you get that?”
Adrian glanced toward the table. His entire expression changed.
“Why?” he asked.
“Because it's mine.”
“You're certain?”
“I designed it.”
He took one slow step toward her.
“Interesting,” he said.
“What's interesting?”
His gaze moved to her wrist. To a faint bruise that had almost disappeared beneath her sleeve.
“Were you on the Silver Swan three nights ago?”
Avery felt the office tilt.
She had imagined this moment a dozen times. In none of those versions had she been alone, with the door behind her and Adrian Blackwood standing between her and the pendant.
“Yes,” she said.
He looked down at his bandaged hand.
Avery drew a steadying breath.
“You were in Cabin 306.”
He didn't answer.
He didn't have to.
The man she had fled on the yacht was the man she was being asked to marry.
And he had known something about her family long before she knew his name.
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