The pawn shop was located in a district William Croft would usually fly over in a helicopter.
Victoria stood at the counter, her hands trembling as she unclasped the diamond necklace from around her neck. It had belonged to her mother. It was the one thing of value she had brought into her marriage, and the only thing she had taken when she fled.
“It’s vintage,” she told the broker, her voice thick. “Pure platinum setting.”
The broker examined it with a loupe, indifferent to her heartbreak. “Five thousand. Cash.”
It was worth fifty, but Victoria didn’t have the time to haggle. She needed a retainer for a lawyer to fight Silas. She needed to protect her song rights so she could provide for her child without William’s strings attached.
“Deal,” she whispered.
She took the stack of bills and walked out, feeling lighter and infinitely heavier at the same time. She was alone. She was fighting.
Two minutes later, a black town car pulled up to the curb.
William Croft stepped out. He walked into the shop, the bell above the door chiming. The broker looked up, his eyes widening as he recognized the billionaire from the tabloids.
“The necklace,” William said, placing a platinum credit card on the glass counter. “The one the lady just sold.”
“It’s… uh… it’s in the safe, Mr. Croft. Standard holding period is–“
“I am buying it back,” William interrupted, his voice leaving no room for argument. “Double what you paid her.”
The broker scrambled to retrieve it. William took the necklace, the metal still warm from Victoria’s skin. He didn’t chase her down to return it. He didn’t use it to guilt her.
He placed it carefully in his breast pocket, next to his heart.
“Keep it safe for her,” William murmured to himself. He walked out of the shop, standing in the shadows as he watched his wife hail a taxi, determined to be her safety net even if she refused to let him catch her.