I stared in disbelief at the scattered fragments.
I’d made those by hand when we first got together. They’d stayed with me for eight years—a tiny, fragile piece of hope I’d carried through everything.
Now, it was just dust beneath his shoes.
Just like our relationship.
“Ross…” My throat tightened, the words barely escaping.
“Stop making a scene here,” he snapped coldly. “Return the ring I gave Zamora!”
My head jerked up, my voice trembling. “I didn’t take her ring!”
His brows furrowed as he looked down at me, disappointment and impatience etched across his face.
“Issy, when did you become so immature? Do you even realize how you look right now—acting like some jealous, crazy woman?”
Every gaze in the office turned toward me.
The whispers spread again.
“Did she really sleep with him?”
“Probably. He must’ve taken pity on her and kept her out of sympathy.”
“What a pity. Trying to steal his fiancée’s ring? If that gets out…”
My fingers burned red as I struggled to wrench the ring off, repeating over and over, “I didn’t take her ring. She’s the one who put it on my finger!”
Ross’s expression darkened. He leaned down, speaking through clenched teeth, his voice barely above a whisper.