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she was in prison, Tony knew she was safe, secure, and unable to make poor decisions.
    Now things were different and public.
    Her damn picture wasn’t just showing up in his inbox from Roach. No, she was gracing magazine after magazine. In the new world of Internet frenzy, she was fuck’n trending . Tony didn’t know what to believe. Many articles claimed that she was penniless and destitute. Tony knew for a fact that wasn’t true. Roach reported a $100,000 windfall. It’d come from a cashier’s check that Roach traced back to a bank in New York. Unfortunately, it had been purchased with cash and the trail died. Who would give Claire that kind of money? Whoever it was didn’t have the balls to man up. If they had, Tony would have found a way to cut them off.
    Tony’s anger at the initial source of funds was minimal compared to his rage when he learned that Claire had sold her jewelry—more specifically, her wedding rings. The sentence in Roach’s email seemed so benign, yet the moment the words registered, Tony was filled with unprecedented fury. Thankfully, the email came while he was in the privacy of his home:

    I have traced the source of Ms. Nichols’ newfound wealth to a reputable jewelry broker in San Francisco. He has kept her sale confidential, out of the media, and well hidden. He utilizes offshore accounts to pay his customers, but after a few dead ends, I was confident that Mr. Pulvara was the source of Ms. Nichols’ nearly $800,000 windfall. To that end, I paid Mr. Pulvara a visit. After some persuasion, he admitted that he purchased a necklace, earrings, and wedding rings from Ms. Nichols .

    The room exploded in red. In the love-hate battle, Tony’s barometer shot toward hate. How could she so casually sell the representation of their union, their visible contract? After the mental chaos faded and Tony’s mind cleared, he thought about her rings. He couldn’t—no, wouldn’t—allow another woman to wear those rings. They’d been designed and purchased for Claire. The thought of anyone else wearing them infuriated him more than the idea of her selling them. Tony didn’t respond to the email in kind; instead, he picked up his phone and barked orders. Saying them aloud helped to dull his overwhelming sense of impotency. “I want the damn rings, and I don’t care how much you have to pay to get them. If this Pulvara man sold them, find the buyer and get them. Don’t disappoint me. I want them in Iowa tomorrow!”

    Roach didn’t disappoint; he even delivered the rings in person to Tony’s office. Now, within the confines of his suite, Tony possessed her rings and her grandmother’s necklace. During less lucid moments, he’d imagine returning the rings to their rightful owner. He’d envision her smiling, emerald gaze as she’d extend her petite hand. The eyes in his imagination swirled with a combination of desire and happiness, as he’d slip the platinum band and sparkling diamond back onto her finger. Those were the moments when love overpowered hate.
    Tony looked through his inbox and found Cameron Andrew’s emails. He clicked and reread the last few weeks of reports. If he hadn’t been so preoccupied with his ex-wife’s release and new life, he’d have known about Sophia’s move. Would it have mattered? Maybe this move would streamline his life. Tony chuckled as he pulled up a map of Silicon Valley. Perhaps he should fire one of his private investigators. The red arrows said it all: Sophia and Claire were living mere miles apart.
    Exhaling, Tony minimized his screen. He was going to California. After over eight years of—on again and off again—watching Claire from afar, he wasn’t going to do it any longer. He clicked on Roach’s most recent email and exhaled at the displeasure of seeing Claire’s life unfold in pictures. With a fresh tumbler of bourbon, he stared at the screen. Before him he saw Claire and Harrison Baldwin dining at some restaurant. The hair on the back of