The Jewel of Her Own

April 27th. Julian Sinclair wished me a happy birthday. I stayed silent for two seconds. I gave a single nod.

I agree to the divorce.

The air stiffened. Julian shifted his weight, suddenly looking entirely out of his depth.

That wasn't what I meant. He paused, his jaw ticking. At least, not today.

"Oh," I replied. "Consider it my thank-you gift for the birthday wish."

Chapter 1

Today was my birthday. It also marked day twelve of my cold war with Julian Sinclair. His name flashed on my screen that afternoon.

[Happy birthday.]

My fingers froze over the glass. I stared at the caller ID, making sure I wasn't hallucinating. I suddenly had no idea how to respond.

"Oh," I finally managed. I added a clipped, "Thanks."

Dead air filled the line.

"You"

"I"

The words collided. We fell right back into silence.

"You go first." Julian leaned into his trademark gentlemanly routine.

I did not politely decline. "I agree to the divorce."

"What?" The single syllable cracked with genuine whiplash.

I repeated the death sentence. "I said, Draw up the divorce papers. I will sign them in five minutes."

Fifteen days ago, Julian Sinclair dropped the divorce ultimatum. He was out attending a board meeting. I marched right into his headquarters. I bypassed HR entirely and publicly fired Piper.

Security dragged her out crying while the whole floor watched with their phones out. It turned into a spectacular corporate trainwreck.

But Piper didn't shed a single tear or throw a tantrum. She played the perfect stoic martyr. She unclipped her company ID lanyard and lifted her chin. "I quit."

She packed up her desk and booked a bus back to her nowhere hometown that exact same day.

The news reached Julian two hours later. My phone rang almost instantly.

His voice came through the speaker as a low, dangerous rumble, thick with suppressed fury.

"Victoria, you crossed a massive line. I am going to find her. When she returns, you will give her a formal apology. Otherwise, we file for divorce."

Julian drove through the night to reach Piper's hometown. He stayed there for two full days. He coaxed her into coming back. But he didn't come home to me.

He sent his executive assistant to pack a bag of his suits and deliver a pathetic little message. "Mr. Sinclair said you two need some space to cool off until you fulfill your promise."

My promise? The apology? Hell would freeze over before I apologized to that girl.

Since he refused to return to our penthouse, I packed my things and left.

Taylor told me the rumor mill was working overtime. They painted me as a pathologically jealous, shallow, toxic wife. They whispered that I treated the title of Mrs. Sinclair like a blank check to ruin lives. Everyone knew powerful men absolutely despised wives who meddled in their empires.

Taylor frowned at me over coffee. "What exactly did Piper do to piss you off so badly?"

Piper was Julian's personal charity project. A lower-income student he sponsored through his alma mater. They shared the same academic mentor, Professor Mitchell. Professor Mitchell adored Piper.

He constantly praised her intelligence, her relentless drive, and her sensible nature. He only lamented her empty bank account.

Julian caught the hint perfectly and opened his wallet to help her out.

Piper, naturally, insisted on showing her profound gratitude. She stood outside Julian's corporate tower with a worn backpack, waiting for hours just to catch him. She handed him some cheap, handmade charm she crafted herself. She stared up at him and vowed to earn a spot at Sinclair Enterprises the second she graduated.

Sinclair Enterprises ran a notoriously brutal hiring gauntlet.

Julian arched a brow at her. "I will not give you a free pass."

Piper's eyes sparkled with fierce determination. "I will get in on my own merit."

I sat waiting in the passenger seat of Julian's car while they exchanged those vows. The glass barely muffled their voices. Julian found this little innocent act utterly fascinating. I found her fascinating too.

That raw, untamed youthful arrogance was blindingly bright. It demanded attention.

Chapter 2

I genuinely didn't overthink it back then. Julian and I had only been married for two years. We were deep in the honeymoon phase. He was obsessed with me.

He reported his every move.

No matter how slammed he was at the office, he always carved out time to call. He brought back souvenirs from every business trip. Cartier bracelets, diamond necklaces, Birkins nothing but the absolute top tier.

Whenever a luxury sales associate asked what his wife preferred, he would give them that soft, indulgent smile. "She likes the expensive stuff."

Then came the trip to Italy. He brought me back a solid gold Patek, which I adored. But when I went down to the garage later, I spotted a crumpled brown paper bag sitting on his passenger seat. Inside was a palm-sized wooden Pinocchio.

It wasn't refined. It screamed cheap roadside tourist trap. But it had character.

I took it upstairs on purpose. I walked right up to our custom display case and moved to place it on the glass shelf, right in front of Julian.

He shot up from the sofa and snatched it out of my hand.

"A souvenir for someone else?" I asked. "Who?"

His brows snapped together in a tight line. The silence stretched.

"Piper," he finally muttered. "She got a scholarship. It's just a congratulatory gift. A cheap little trinket."

It had been over six months since I last heard Piper's name. A cold wave of confusion washed over me, closely followed by disbelief.

"You're still in contact with her?"

I checked his phone. They had exchanged numbers ages ago.

[Mr. Sinclair, this is Piper.]

Julian hadn't replied.

Two weeks later, Piper won a collegiate debate championship. She sent him a selfie holding the trophy. Two days later, Julian replied:

[No need to send me these things.]

[I have to. I want you to know I am not wasting the money you gave me.]

From that day on, every single minor achievement was immediately forwarded to Julian's inbox. Julian rarely replied. Just a scattered handful of detached acknowledgments.

[Yeah.]

[Got it.]

[Keep it up.]

Julian didn't see the problem. To him, it was perfectly platonic mentorship. But when I voiced my discomfort, he deleted her number. Even if he stared at the screen in dead silence for a long time before hitting the button.

From then on, they cut off all contact

Absolute bullshit.

If they had actually stopped talking, the rest of the nightmare wouldn't have happened. We wouldn't have reached the point of no return.

Julian and I finalized our divorce at breakneck speed.

After he registered that my demand for a divorce was entirely serious, the line had gone dead for a long time. "That wasn't what I meant at least, not today."

He abandoned our home for twelve days and completely cut me off. He was starving me out, trying to force my head down so I would crawl to Piper and apologize.

He told me, "Piper hasn't had an easy life. Everything she has, she fought tooth and nail for. Victoria, you shouldn't weaponize your privilege just to make things difficult for others."

Julian was always harping on about how hard Piper had it. So he stayed up past midnight personally overhauling her resume. So when she showed up to Sinclair Enterprises for her interview, he escorted her up in his private executive elevator. Piper landed the role as his assistant.

He gifted her a bespoke tailored suit to celebrate.

Piper was socially awkward, so he spoon-fed her corporate etiquette, detail by agonizing detail. He paraded her around high-society galas.

He introduced her to the elite wives of New York with a protective tone. "She's young and still learning. Go easy on her."

They never hugged. They never kissed. They never slept together. There was only Piper's raw adoration and Julian's unwavering appreciation.

Julian didn't understand.

Chapter 3

"Why do you always have to keep score?"

I wasn't keeping score. I had only given him three warnings. First, I told him to cut contact with Piper. Second, I told him I would not accept Piper working at his company.

Third, I fired Piper.

Seven years of history with Julian Sinclair. Giving three warnings was generous. Anything more would just be disrespecting myself.

So I looked at Julian and delivered the verdict. "It doesn't matter anymore."

Whether he and Piper had crossed a physical line, what exactly their relationship was, whether they lacked boundaries or I was just pathologically jealous. None of it mattered.

"Let's get a divorce."

There were no screaming matches. There were no tears. Julian and I walked out of the courthouse one after the other.

Piper was there, playing the devoted secretary, waiting dutifully by Julian's car.

Julian pressed his lips into a tight line and asked if I needed a ride.

"No," I replied. "Oh, if it's convenient this afternoon, I'll go back to the house and clear out the rest of my things."

When it came to dividing our assets, I didn't want anything. I just wanted the cash. The penthouse, the cars, the equity. I demanded he liquidate my share completely.

Julian was ever the rational businessman. He advised against it. "You should keep the equity. It's a long-term yield compared to a cash buyout."

I knew that, obviously. But I didn't care. If I was cutting the cord, I was severing it completely.

Julian clearly caught my drift. His expression darkened.

"You don't have to do this," he said, his voice dropping low. "You can go over whenever you want."

I gave a curt nod, hailed a cab, and headed straight to the estate. I called a moving company on the way. By the time I pulled up, their truck was already waiting at the gates.

Three hours. That was all it took to strip that mansion of any trace I had ever lived there.

On my way out, I slid my wedding band off my finger. I left it sitting on the entryway console.

Just like that, my love story and my marriage with Julian Sinclair were dead and buried.

The following week was an absolute blur. Taylor called me half a dozen times. I sent every single one to voicemail.

She finally lost it. "If you don't come out, our friendship is officially over."

I caved, showing up to the country club suppressing a yawn. She had gathered a loud, mixed crowd. They played a few rounds of golf while I sat under a patio umbrella and dozed off twice.

"That exhausted? When was the last time you slept?" Taylor stared at me. "Did you lose weight again?"

She was utterly baffled by my workaholic nature. She loved money too. But she loved playing hard much more. To quote her directly, if you aren't making money to play, then making money is pointless.

I could only conclude she just didn't love money enough.

After a bit of idle chatter, I checked my watch. "I have to go. Have fun with your friends."

"Fine." Taylor wasn't thrilled, but she didn't try to force me to stay.

I stood up to leave. I turned around and ran straight into Julian walking toward the patio. Piper was trailing right behind him.

Taylor's face instantly dropped. "What are you doing here?" She immediately raised her hands in surrender to me. "I swear to God, I didn't invite him!"

Julian's face remained impassive. He didn't say a word. His gaze stayed fixed entirely on me.

I treated him like empty air. I gave Taylor's shoulder a reassuring pat. "I'm heading out."

I made it exactly two steps.

Piper suddenly spoke up. She looked a little pale, but her eyes held that same infuriating, stubborn gleam.

"Victoria, I know you don't want to see me. I shouldn't have come. I'm interrupting. I'll be the one to leave."

I'll be the one to leave. But would Julian really let his precious assistant walk away?

Chapter 4

The moment those words left her mouth, Julian's posture rigidified. His face darkened as he stared me down.

"Leave? Who's leaving? Where are you going?"

Parker jogged over. He caught the perfectly manufactured, long-suffering grievance on Piper's face, and his expression instantly melted into absolute heartbreak. Then he turned to me, his eyes filled with self-righteous knowing. He swallowed down his obvious displeasure, his jaw tight.

"Sister-in-law, there's no need for this. I invited Piper. I couldn't find a parking spot, so I told her to come in with Julian first. Look, just do me a solid and don't make things difficult for her, okay?"

I stared at Parker, a breath of a laugh escaping my nose. "Do you a solid? You don't even respect your own brother, Vince. Why would I give a damn about your ego?"

"You" The kid had zero emotional regulation. He lunged forward, glaring daggers.

"Enough. What are you doing?" Julian finally intervened. He blocked Parker with his arm. He shot the kid a sharp look of warning.

Then he turned that exact same oppressive stare onto me.

Too bad I had entirely stopped caring about his pressure tactics.

"And another thing," I added coolly. "Stop calling me your sister-in-law. Julian and I are legally divorced."

Clearly, Julian hadn't announced our split to his inner circle. He always did prefer to play the strong, silent type. But Parker was a notorious loudmouth. Giving him a piece of information was like buying a billboard in Times Square.

You're welcome, Julian. I really was a saint.

I stepped smoothly past them and walked away.

Julian caught up with me in seconds. He reeked of impatience and utter confusion. "Do you always have to be like this?"

I didn't miss a beat. "Like what?"

His lips pressed into a thin, furious line. "You know exactly what. Victoria, you heard him. Parker invited Piper."

"You can clearly see Parker has feelings for her. He's actively pursuing her. Why do you still have to be so relentless?"

His interrogation dripped with profound disappointment. I genuinely didn't understand the logic.

"Julian, we are legally divorced. Why would any of this be my problem?"

His hands curled into tight fists. He took a heavy, jagged breath. "Are you honestly going to look me in the eye and say you aren't leaving right now because of Piper?"

I nodded, perfectly calm. "I absolutely am. I was literally on my way out the second you arrived. Though, if I wasn't already leaving, your arrival would have made me leave anyway."

"I don't like her, and I don't like you. Why would I force myself to breathe the same air as people I can't stand?"

I delivered the lines with brutal indifference. I executed the clean break flawlessly. Not a single ounce of hesitation.

Watching Julian's face darken into a storm and seeing the suppressed, burning rage in his eyes I'd be lying if I said it didn't feel fantastic.

But that fleeting high lasted exactly thirty seconds.

I got into my car and drove away. Glancing in the rearview mirror, I saw Julian rooted to the pavement. I watched Piper practically glide over to his side.

As for me? My face was a blank slate. But beneath the surface, my chest tightened so hard it felt like my ribs were fracturing. My throat burned with the effort of keeping my breathing steady.

It was impossible not to hurt. It was a delusion to think I could just walk away unscathed.

Seven years. Julian and I had been building a life for seven years.

He chased me back in college. We only crossed paths because of Taylor. Julian and Taylor were childhood best friends, and Taylor was my freshman roommate. Taylor and I weren't close back then.

She spent every waking hour running around with Julian's frat crowd. Texas Hold'em was their favorite pastime.

Taylor had notoriously atrocious luck. She lost every single hand she played. At first, I ignored it. Then, I accidentally overheard her on a phone call.

She was complaining about dropping two grand and vowing to win it all back.

So, I pitched myself. "Let me play for you. I take a twenty percent cut of the winnings."

My dad died early. My mother practically raised me at the underground poker tables. For those trust fund kids, cards were just a casual game.

Chapter 5

For her, playing cards was a literal nine-to-five. And going to work meant collecting a paycheck. Sometimes she pulled in a few hundred, sometimes just a few dozen. It was more than enough to keep food on the table for both of us.

Thanks to her unorthodox parenting, I spent the summer after high school grinding in underground poker rooms. I made an entire semester of college tuition before the fall semester even started.

Taylor was highly skeptical at first. She dragged me to one of their frat house games. In less than four hours, I won back four thousand dollars for her.

Taylor was absolutely ecstatic. She practically bounced off the walls with smug satisfaction. I skimmed my eight hundred dollar cut, and she treated me to an absurdly expensive steakhouse dinner to celebrate. We were both riding high.

But I honestly felt a little bad about it. They were just running a casual college game. Bringing in a ringer like me was a fun party trick the first time, but doing it consistently would just ruin the game for everyone else.

I never expected Taylor to come begging for my help again two days later. And then a third time. It wasn't until that third game that I finally realized something was seriously off.

Given the absolute garbage poker skills of the guy sitting across from me, how on earth had Taylor managed to lose so much money to him in the first place? Was he intentionally feeding me winning hands?

I slowly lifted my gaze to look at him. He was already looking right back at me. His eyes crinkled at the corners, holding a soft, quiet smile. It was like he had been waiting the entire night for me to finally look up.

I drank a staggering amount at tonight's business dinner. It had been a very long time since I let myself get this incredibly wasted.

The distributor from Hong Kong was a functioning alcoholic, and his tolerance was virtually bottomless. But securing the exclusive distribution rights was worth matching him shot for shot. It made the last two weeks of relentless grinding entirely worth it.

After I finally poured him into a town car, my legs basically gave out. I took a ragged breath and collapsed onto a velvet sofa in the hotel lobby. The room was spinning violently. I dropped my head, burying my flushed face against my knees.

A few seconds later, a pair of leather oxfords stopped directly in my line of sight. They were pitch black and flawlessly polished. I squinted, trailing my gaze slowly up the razor-sharp crease of the suit trousers. A tailored jacket.

A silk tie. And then, a painfully familiar face.

Julian Sinclair.

He stood over me, leaning down slightly, a faint crease forming between his brows. "How much did you drink?"

A dry, breathy laugh escaped me. "Not enough. I still recognize your face."

He completely ignored the jab. He slipped off his suit jacket and draped it heavily over my shoulders. "I am taking you home."

I tilted my head, jerking my shoulder sharply to let the expensive fabric slide right off me onto the cushion. "Julian, I secured the distribution rights for that Mozambican ruby mine."

The rigid tension in his jaw softened by a fraction. He let out a low hum of approval. "I knew you could pull it off."

Hearing those words drop from his mouth literally made me laugh out of sheer, venomous anger. Combine that with the room spinning and the bile rising in my throat I genuinely did not want to exchange another syllable with this man.

I waved a hand at him in utter disgust. "Back up. You are breathing my air."

Julian's brow snapped into a hard frown. "I know you are angry, but on this specific matter, Piper did absolutely nothing wrong."

Two months ago, I landed a massive commission from Mrs. Harrington. She wanted a bespoke, museum-grade jewelry collection. To deliver on that set, and to secure my studio's long-term standing in the industry, I desperately needed to lock down the Mozambican ruby mine proxy. But they operated on an incredibly tight network.

They only partnered with established, vetted clients.

So, I brought the issue to Julian. I needed Sinclair Enterprises to put their weight behind me. All I needed was his signature on the corporate guarantor line.

Julian had agreed without a second thought. I would send the paperwork over, he would sign it, and everyone walked away happy. That was exactly how it was supposed to go. That was how it had always worked in the past.

But this time, the legal file I sent to his office was kicked back. Piper rejected it. She claimed it violated corporate protocol. She declared that the CEO could not put his name on a document of that nature.

And that was exactly why I stormed into the Sinclair headquarters and fired her in front of the entire executive floor. She had crossed a massive line.

Chapter 6

But Julian insisted she did nothing wrong.

I gave a slow, deliberate nod. "Fine. She was just doing her job. She wasn't wrong."

"But what about you? Julian, while you were so busy playing the impartial CEO, did you conveniently forget that we were still married?"

Honestly, rehashing this now was completely pointless. But alcohol had a way of stripping away logic and self-control. I took a deep breath and pushed myself to my feet.

I looked at him, genuinely baffled. "Julian, why haven't you slept with Piper yet?"

Julian's expression instantly darkened into something lethal. "What the hell are you talking about?"

A dark, breathy laugh slipped past my lips. "The fact that you haven't fucked her yet is incredibly frustrating for me."

My legs felt like lead, but I forced myself to sway toward the exit.

"Victoria." Julian's voice wasn't loud, but it cut through the lobby air like a shard of ice. "Are you actively hoping I cheat on you? Or are you just hoping I cheat so you can use it as leverage to bleed me dry?"

Taylor had warned me. She told me to just have fun with Julian, to enjoy the ride and leave it at that. She told me not to invest too much. Because the more you invest, the more it guts you when it inevitably ends.

She never believed in our relationship. She was absolutely certain Julian and I would crash and burn.

Why? Because the gap between us was astronomical. I was too broke. And he had entirely too much money.

But I refused to play the tragic, unworthy victim. I knew my worth. If Julian Sinclair chased me, if he wanted me in his life, then I possessed something that matched his weight. We were equals.

So, after we got together, I accepted every single thing he gave me with zero guilt. When he asked what I liked, my answer was always exactly the same. "I like expensive things."

People called me a gold digger. They called me vain. I couldn't care less. I never bothered hiding my ambition or my greed.

If he could afford to give it, I could afford to take it.

But now he thought I was trying to extort him? How absolutely rich.

I spun back around. My fist shot out, wrapping tight around the heavy silk of his tie. I yanked him down. His body jerked forward, stopping mere inches from mine.

"Does Piper's pathetic little act make you feel like a god?" I whispered, my breath ghosting over his clenched jaw.

"Does her wanting absolutely nothing make her seem so pure and noble? She doesn't ask because she's terrified. She knows she doesn't deserve it."

I stared dead into his eyes. "I am not your little charity case. Being with me is a luxury you can no longer afford."

"If you can't afford the maintenance, you shouldn't have bought the ring. You're useless."

After securing the proxy for the Mozambican mine, I caught a red-eye to Bangkok. I needed to attend a private gemstone viewing. Pre-cut stones came with an absurd markup. Furthermore, the truly flawless stones never even hit the open market.

Whatever you could easily buy had zero rarity.

So this time, I was hunting for rough stones. The viewing room was packed with industry sharks. Clear display boxes of rough gems lined the massive banquet tables. Everyone was looking at the exact same inventory.

It was a brutal test of who had the sharpest eye.

I carried my velvet tray down the line, inspecting box after box under the harsh halogen lights. My pulse remained completely steady.

Until I popped the latch on the third box from the end.

Seven rough stones sat inside, totaling over eighty carats. The main selling point of this specific lot was a forty-carat mid-grade chunk. The crystal structure was clean, but the hue leaned a bit too pink. It wasn't top-tier, but it was a safe investment.

But my eyes locked onto the piece of scrap sitting right next to it. It looked like an ordinary lump of black gravel. The crust was incredibly thick and completely opaque. But on the surface, there was a tiny, water-eroded patch revealing a microscopic flash of blood-red.

I swapped my standard penlight for a high-powered tactical beam. I pressed the lens flush against that thin sliver of red and clicked it on.

My heart slammed violently against my ribs.

The second I secured the winning bid on the rough stone, I boarded my next flight deeper into Thailand.

Chapter 7

Mr. Fisher had been cutting stones for forty years. The entire diamond district respected his flawless hands.

He examined the rough stone from every angle for a long time. "Do we preserve the carat weight, or do we preserve the color?"

I didn't hesitate. "The color."

Nearly an hour later, Mr. Fisher powered down the cutting wheel. Three point eight carats. Glass body. Unheated.

Pigeon blood red. Museum rarity.

The tension finally drained from my shoulders. The trip was entirely worth it.

Over the next two weeks, I navigated endless private viewings, silent auctions, and cutting rooms. I secured a phenomenal portfolio of top-tier rubies.

Mission accomplished.

Time to go home. After landing back in New York, I headed straight to the studio. I pushed through the backlog until past midnight before finally leaving for my apartment