Chapter 2 - SOMETHING INSIDE THE DIAMONDFor several seconds, I could hear nothing except the refrigerator humming behind me.
HE IS WATCHING.
The note had been written in block capitals using black ink.
I didn’t touch it.
I didn’t touch the glass either.
Instead, I stood barefoot on the cold kitchen tile, staring at the tiny dark object visible through the crack in the pendant.
My first thought was a microphone.
My second was a tracker.
My third was worse.
What if the elderly woman had been inside my house?
I turned sharply toward the back door.
Locked.
The alarm panel beside the garage entrance showed no breach.
Every downstairs window was closed.
I checked the security app on my phone.
No alerts.
No opened doors.
No motion events outside the ordinary overnight pattern.
Then I heard floorboards creak above me.
Daniel.
I grabbed the glass.
There was no time to think.
I poured the water into the garbage disposal, wiped the rust-colored residue from the sink with paper towel, dropped the wet necklace back into its box, and shoved both the note and paper towel into the pocket of my robe.
By the time Daniel entered the kitchen, I was making coffee.
He yawned.
“Morning.”
“Morning.”
His eyes went directly to the jewelry box.
Not to me.
To the box.
“Did you try it on?”
I turned toward the coffeemaker so he wouldn’t see my face.
“Not yet.”
“Morgan.”
“What?”
He sounded playful, but something sharper lived underneath it.
“I bought you—well, technically inherited you—a gorgeous necklace, and you’re acting like I brought home a toaster.”
“I told you I wanted to shower first.”
“That was last night.”
I turned around.
He was watching me closely.
I forced a smile.
“I’ll wear it to dinner tonight.”
“You promise?”
“Yes.”
He crossed the kitchen and kissed me.
His hand settled briefly against the back of my neck.
I fought the urge to recoil.
“Perfect.”
He poured coffee and began talking about a meeting at Helixor.
I barely heard him.
The note burned inside my pocket.
Twenty minutes later, Daniel left for work.
I locked the door behind him.
Then I ran upstairs, dressed, grabbed the necklace, and drove to the one person I trusted to tell me whether I was losing my mind.
My older brother, Noah Bennett, ran an independent electronics repair shop in Wicker Park.
He had spent twelve years working in cybersecurity before deciding corporate life was “slow death with catered lunches.”
When I arrived, he was replacing the screen on a tablet.
“You look terrible,” he said.
“Good morning to you too.”
“No, I mean genuinely terrible.”
I locked the shop door.
His joking expression disappeared.
“What happened?”
I placed the necklace on his workbench.
“Tell me what’s inside that pendant.”
Noah frowned.
He put on magnifying glasses and examined the crack.
“Where did you get this?”
“Daniel gave it to me.”
“When?”
“Last night.”
He looked at me.
“Why is it wet?”
“Long story.”
He picked up a precision tool.
“May I open it?”
“Yes.”
It took him six minutes.
When the pendant separated, Noah stopped breathing for a second.
“That’s not jewelry hardware.”
“What is it?”
He reached for tweezers and lifted out the tiny black component.
“A passive RFID module, maybe. But there’s something else.”
Beneath it was a wafer-thin circuit.
Noah examined it under a microscope.
His face changed.
“Morgan.”
“What?”
“This thing has a microphone.”
My stomach dropped.
“That small?”
“Very small. Short-range transmission, probably. Battery is integrated into the decorative housing.”
I stared at the necklace.
“So whoever gave this to me wanted to record me?”
“Possibly monitor proximity too.”
“Could it hurt me?”
Noah frowned.
“Electrically? Unlikely.”
“What about the brown stuff?”
“What brown stuff?”
I told him about the water.
He asked for the paper towel.
I handed it over.
He smelled it, then immediately pulled back.
“Don’t touch this bare-handed again.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know what it is.”
The joking brother I knew had vanished.
He put the towel into a plastic evidence bag.
“Where’s the note?”
I showed him.
Noah stared at it for a long time.
“Who put this in your kitchen?”
“I don’t know.”
“Daniel?”
“He was asleep.”
“You sure?”
“No.”
That single word frightened me more than everything else.
Noah walked to the front window and lowered the blinds.
“Start from the beginning.”
I told him about the bus.
The elderly woman.
Her green beret.
Her knowing my name.
The exact warning.
When I finished, Noah didn’t tell me I was being irrational.
Instead he asked, “Did you notice anyone following you afterward?”
“No.”
“Any strange calls?”
“No.”
“Anything unusual at home?”
I thought about it.
Then remembered.
Three nights earlier, Daniel had replaced our bedroom smoke detector.
He said the old one had started chirping.
“Noah.”
“What?”
“Daniel installed a new smoke detector himself.”
We drove back to my house.
Noah brought a handheld RF detector.
He swept the downstairs first.
Nothing.
Then the office.
Nothing.
The guest room.
Nothing.
When we entered my bedroom, the detector began chirping.
Noah looked at the ceiling.
The smoke detector.
He pulled a chair beneath it.
Ten seconds later, his face hardened.
“This isn’t just a smoke detector.”
He removed the cover.
Inside was a miniature camera.
Pointed directly at my side of the bed.
I gripped the dresser.
My knees weakened.
“No.”
Noah climbed down.
“Any reason Daniel would need to secretly record your bedroom?”
I couldn’t answer.
My phone vibrated.
Daniel.
I stared at the screen.
A text message appeared.
Can’t wait to see you wearing the necklace tonight.
Then another.
Send me a picture when you put it on.
Noah read it over my shoulder.
“Don’t respond yet.”
I looked at him.
“What am I supposed to do?”
“First, we figure out what he’s doing.”
The front door opened downstairs.
Both of us froze.
Daniel wasn’t supposed to return until six.
Footsteps entered the house.
Slow.
Measured.
Noah quietly reached for a metal flashlight.
The footsteps stopped at the base of the stairs.
Then a woman’s voice called my name.
“Morgan?”
I recognized the voice instantly.
I ran into the hallway.
The elderly woman from the bus stood below me.
Still wearing the green beret.
Noah moved beside me.
“How did you get in?”
She looked at him, then at me.
“Because you don’t have much time.”
“Who are you?”
“My name is Eleanor Voss.”
May you like
She removed her hat.
“And twenty-eight years ago, your husband’s father tried to kill me with a necklace exactly like yours.”
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