People kept telling me how strong I was.
I didn’t feel strong.
I felt hollow.
Then Camille walked toward me.
“I think we should settle something.”
Ethan immediately looked uncomfortable.
“Camille, not today.”
She ignored him.
I asked, “What?”
“The ring.”
Several conversations stopped.
My aunt Laura lowered her coffee cup.
Camille folded her arms.
“Your mom always said it should stay in the family. Ethan is her son, and if we have children someday, it could eventually be passed down to them.”
“I don’t think this is the time.”
“It has to be discussed eventually.”
Then she added, “She made it pretty clear to me that she wanted me to have it.”
I stared at her.
That wasn’t true.
By the time Mom had become too weak to speak clearly, Camille was still asking questions about the ring.
I turned toward Ethan.
“Did Mom ever tell you that?”
He looked at the floor.
“Claire, maybe we should talk about this privately.”
That hurt more than Camille’s lie.
He knew she wasn’t telling the truth.
Yet once again, he was choosing silence.
Camille lifted her chin.
“I’m not trying to cause drama. I’m only asking for what she wanted.”
At my mother’s funeral.
Inside my mother’s house.
She was using a dead woman’s name to claim her jewelry.
Then I remembered the velvet box.
“I’ll get it.”
Camille blinked.
“What?”
“The ring.”
Ethan looked sharply at me.
“Claire…”
“It’s fine.”
I went upstairs.
The real ring was safely wrapped in one of Mom’s scarves inside my bag.
The decoy box remained in the dresser exactly where she’d left it.
I carried it downstairs and placed it in Camille’s hand.
Her entire expression changed.
For the first time that day, she looked pleased.
“Thank you.”
She glanced around as if she had just won an argument.
“At least someone understands what your mother wanted.”
Ethan had gone pale.
“Camille, maybe don’t open it here.”
“Why not?”
She flipped open the lid.
Her smile disappeared.
Inside was the cheap plastic ring.
