A sharp cry cut through the low murmur of the main dining room. Arthur Blackwood, the most powerful industrialist in the exclusive enclave of “Silver Creek Estates,” was on his feet, his face a mask of cold fury. His finger was pointed directly at a young waitress.
Anna, frozen mid-step with a damp cloth in her hand, felt a chill run down her spine. She instinctively dropped the cloth and her hands flew to her neck, shielding the gold locket that hung there.
“I didn’t steal anything,” she stammered, taking a step back. “I swear.”
Arthur wasn’t listening. He shoved a chair out of his way and advanced on her like a storm front. Diners at nearby tables shrank back, startled by the raw intensity radiating from the man.
“Don’t lie to me,” Blackwood growled, backing her against a marble column. “I’ve been looking for that piece for twenty-three years. Where did you get it? Tell me.”
The restaurant manager, Mark, hurried over, his face flushed with panic.
“Mr. Blackwood, please!” Mark stood between them, hands held up placatingly. “My deepest apologies. This girl is new. A clumsy thief. Anna, you’re fired! Get out of here before I call the police.”
Mark grabbed Anna’s arm roughly, trying to pull her toward the kitchen. Anna cried out, but before she could resist, a powerful hand clamped down on the manager’s wrist, squeezing until his knuckles turned white. It was Arthur.
“Let her go,” he commanded in a low, dangerous voice. “If you touch her again, I swear I’ll see to it this business is a crater by tomorrow morning.”
Mark instantly released the girl, trembling, and backed away with his hands up.
“But, Mr. Blackwood, she has your locket…”
“Shut up and get out of my sight,” Arthur cut him off without a glance.
He turned his attention back to Anna. They were so close she could smell the expensive bourbon on his breath and see the raw pain in his gray eyes.
“Give me the locket,” he demanded, holding out his hand, palm up. “Now.”
Anna shook her head, clutching the piece of jewelry desperately.
“It’s mine. It’s the only thing I have from my mother. I’ve worn it since I was a baby.”
“You’re lying!” Arthur slammed his fist against the column. “My wife was wearing that the night she died in the crash. There were no survivors. None!”
Blackwood’s rage felt like a physical force. Anna, trembling but moved by a strange sense of dignity, used her shaking fingers to unfasten the clasp. She removed the locket and held it up in front of the millionaire’s face, but didn’t hand it over.
“If you think I stole it, then tell me what the engraving says,” she challenged, her voice unsteady. “If it’s yours, you’d know what’s on the back.”
Arthur froze. His breathing hitched.
“It says…” His voice softened, filled with an endless sorrow. “It says, ‘A plus E, Forever.’”
Anna slowly turned the locket over. The restaurant lights glinted off the letters etched into the worn gold: ‘A + E, Forever’.
Arthur let out a choked gasp. He snatched the locket from her hand and ran his thumb over the engraving again and again, as if to confirm it was real.
“It’s not possible,” he whispered, his gaze snapping up to meet hers. “How old are you?”
“Twenty-three,” Anna answered, rubbing her now-bare neck.
“When is your birthday?”
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