Alan, dressed in a suit, walked into their bedroom, dark even in the middle of the afternoon. He pulled open the heavy custom brocade curtains and looked out at Park Avenue. She could imagine what he was watching: their doorman hailing someone a cab, parents holding the hands of small children, tourists carrying shopping bags. It was probably a beautiful mid-October day. The idea of enjoying a view, or a walk, or anything at all, was unthinkable to her.

“I thought you left for work,” she said.

“No.” Alan sat on the edge of the bed. “I didn’t go to the office this morning.”

“Where did you go, then?”

“I had a meeting with the Maybrooks and our respective attorneys.”

Constance sat up, blinking against the intrusive light. “The Maybrooks? Why?”

“There are logistics to work out.”

“Oh? What could possibly matter?” Constance sniffed and reached over to her bedside table for the Electric Rose. It caught the light streaming in from the windows and appeared to glow. But there was nothing beautiful about it any longer. There was now only an overwhelming sense of morbidity to the extraordinary stone; Paulina had been wearing it at the time of her death.

Fortunately, they’d managed to keep that detail out of the press; it wasn’t exactly the association Alan wanted for Pavlin & Co’s most famous diamond. When he’d shared his concern about public perception in the hours following news of Paulina’s and Liam’s deaths, Constance was appalled. How could he think of such a thing at a time like that? “It’s my job, as head of the family, as head of a global business, to think of precisely such a thing,” he’d said. “Public perception is fickle; once we lose control of it, it will be difficult—if not impossible—to regain control of the narrative.”

“I knew you never should have given her this ring,” she said now, looking up at him.

“What?”

“That stupid competition. The problems between her and Elodie. She was running away from it—from us—and it killed her.” It was the one thing she’d been thinking over and over again, on a constant mental loop. She hadn’t been able to articulate it to him until that moment. It felt good to say it aloud, even if Alan looked horrified.

He sighed and reached for her hand. “I know you want to make sense of this. I do, too. But the reality is, Paulina was driving the boat too fast. She had the motor on instead of using the sails and they were too close to the dock. The Maybrooks’ lawyer made it clear that the toxicology reports don’t work in our favor. The accident was just that—an accident. I know you’re having a hard time making sense of it all, but it had nothing to do with the Electric Rose.”