"These were with my mother's papers," Avery says, passing Sophie some of the drawings. "One of the rings has the word'' Howel `` written on it—do you know anything about that?"

Sophie takes the paper and holds it up to the light, and then looks at the drawing under her magnifying glass. Her face pales, and her eyes narrowed, and she quickly shakes her head.

"Honestly, I don't think I noticed that before," Sophie says. "Of course, it's been a long time since I've looked at these—maybe I've just forgotten."

A wave of disappointment washes over Avery, and she sighs quietly. If Sophie doesn't know why my mother wrote the name on the ring, no one else will, Avery thinks. I guess I'll have to live with the mystery.

"I'm sorry I couldn't be more help, dear," Sophie says. "I'd love to stay and chat, but I have to go to a meeting this afternoon."

"It's alright," Avery says. "I really appreciate the recommendation."

"One more thing," Sophie says as she stands, "I told you at the show that you have a serious talent for jewelry design, and I mean it. Now that I know that Olivia was your mother, it makes so much sense—you really take after her, Avery."

"Really?" Avery asks, feeling a sudden warmth in her chest.

"Really," Sophie says. "I'd like you to reconsider my offer. I know you're and pregnant, and I'm sure you're busy, but I'd love to have you come to help me with my designs sometimes. I think it'd be rewarding to see your ideas come to life, and it might be nice to continue your mother's work, don't you think?"

"I'll think about it," Avery says, giving Sophie a hug.

Sophie leaves, and Avery sinks back down onto the sofa. She takes her phone out and starts to call Gabrielle, guiltily realizing that she hasn't heard from her sister recently. The phone rings, and a maid comes rushing into the room, carrying a champagne-colored box with a matching silk bow.

"Mr. Howel asked me to give this to you," the maid says.

Avery ends the call and takes the velvety box. She slides the lid open, and a bright gold light dazzles her eyes and bounces around the room. A delicate golden necklace made of twisted branches shines in the afternoon sun. Yellow leaf-shaped diamonds decorate the branches.

Is this the surprise Evan was talking about? She wonders. It came a lot sooner than I was expecting. She smiles to herself and holds the necklace up to her neck, but her phone begins to ring. With a sigh, she gently puts the necklace back in the box and answers the phone.

"You just called me and then hung up," Gabrielle says, sounding worried. "What's the matter?"

"Where are you now?" Avery asks. "I'm worried about you."

There's a long pause before Gabrielle answers, "I'm at the bank."

"They didn't give you a hard time at the station, did they?" Avery asks, feeling guilty that she hasn't already asked her sister.

"No, of course not," Gabrielle says. "They released me right after you left. Andrew didn't do anything to you, did he?"

"No, not really," Avery says.

"Good, because I swear I'd make him pay if he hurt you in any way," Gabrielle says with unusual fierceness.

"We need to talk, Gabby," Avery says. "I need to know what happened at The Palm House—why did you get arrested?"

"I'm sorry, Avery," Gabrielle says. "I can't talk now, and it's my turn in line. Gotta go. Bye."

Gabrielle nervously slides her card into the ATM. Jackson promised he'd return the money, but she's scared he lied. She types in her PIN and waits while the screen loads. A black number appears on the white screen, and Gabrielle blinks and shakes her head. That can't be right, she thinks.

She cancels the transaction, removes the card, and tries again at a different machine. The same number appears: Jackson has added an extra million dollars to her account. Her blood boils, and she clenches her hands into fists. How dare he! She thinks. Does he think he can buy me off? Does he think that a million dollars somehow make up for what he did?

She hits the green withdrawal button on the keypad. The machine asks her for a number, and she nervously types one million. There isn't enough cash in the machine, so she has to go inside. The bank teller eyes her suspiciously and disappears to talk to his boss. When he returns, he passes her a huge stack of hundred dollar bills, frowning, and she pulls them off the counter and into her white backpack.

The money is surprisingly heavy as she walks to The Palm House. The waiter at the front door recognizes her from before and leads her down the corridor to the same private room. The door is half-open, and the sound of drunken laughter drifts into the hall. A group of women is sipping red wine at the table. Jackson is sitting on the sofa, and Jessica is perched on his lap. She runs her fingers through his hair and whispers in his ear, but he looks bored.

"Jess, come on," he says. "Get off me already."

Gabrielle wants to leave, but it's too late—the waiter is opening the door and announcing her name. In the blink of an eye, Jessica hops to her feet and raises her hand. Gabrielle flinches, but the attack comes from another direction—something cold and wet splashes her face and chest. She blinks and wipes her eyes and looks down at her wine-soaked shirt. The women at the table burst into loud laughter. They point their empty wine glasses at Gabrielle, and a tall blonde falls to the floor, laughing too hard to stand.

"Nice one, ladies," Jessica says.

Gabrielle splutters and blinks. Her wet hair sticks to her cheeks, and her soggy shirt clings to her chest. She glares at Jackson, but he seems just as bored and uninterested as before.

"I can't believe this is the bitch who got you arrested," Jessica says. "She's barely even a woman. What did she do to interest you? What does she have that I don't."

Out of the corner of her eye, Gabrielle sees Jackson wink at her, and her stomach churns with anger. She marches across the room and throws her backpack onto the table. She unzips the backpack and pulls out a stack of hundreds and slides one crisp bill out of the band. She crumples it into a ball and throws it at Jackson's head.

"Thanks to you, I got arrested for prostitution," she says with disgust. "You seemed to think our time together was worth a million dollars. I'm here to let you know that you aren't even worth that crumpled hundred to me."

She grabs the backpack and dumps the money out onto the table. The silverware goes flying, and a bottle of wine spills and drips onto the floor. The women nudge each other and gasp.

"The rest is for all of you," she says. "Jackson seems to like paying women for sex, but today it's all on me. Give him a good time, girls. You're all dressed as you know how."

"Are you calling us prostitutes?" Jessica screams.

Gabrielle winks.