Clara didn’t wait. She ran to the office, heart racing. A quick search behind the desk revealed it—an elegant silver necklace. Simple. Expensive. Definitely not hers. She brought it back downstairs, her hand trembling. “She’s been planting things,” Clara said quietly. “To mess with us.”
Marc stared. “She wanted us to fight. To split us up.” “Let’s check the bathroom next,” Clara whispered. “The night before the first argument.” They jumped back in the footage, scrolling to the evening Clara remembered finding something odd.