Chapter 12 - The Splash
Nora should have panicked. She should have lunged for the ring, begged, or cried. That was the spectacle Ophelia desired: a poor girl weeping over a rich family's jewel, a humiliating anecdote for society brunches. Instead, Nora stood perfectly, unnervingly still.
Mistaking the stillness for utter defeat, Ophelia turned on her heel and strode through the open glass doors onto the balcony. The cool night air whipped her silver gown around her. The guests surged forward, horrified yet captivated. Julian followed, begging under his breath. Ophelia raised her arm over the dark expanse of the Chicago River, smiled a wicked, triumphant smile, and threw the ring. It flashed once in the moonlight before vanishing into the black water below. A collective gasp echoed across the balcony.
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