Then he got in his car and drove off without looking back.
Hilda was stubborn. She never backed down. He'd have to find another way to make her bend.
Jasper dialed his secretary.
"Cut off the medical funding. Transfer her grandmother to a standard ward. Don't do anything else unless I say so."
The secretary listened, confused. He'd been called away by a phone call from Vivienne the day the ambulance arrived and had no idea what had actually happened to Hilda's grandmother.
After a moment's thought, he picked up the phone and called the hospital.
The necklace had landed in the planter in the middle of the road. Hilda kept her eyes locked on it, heart in her throat, waiting until the traffic thinned before darting across to dig through the bushes.
She crawled through the landscaping for what felt like an eternity, mud caking every inch of her, until at last the recovered necklace was clutched tight in her palm. She looked up, and a pair of headlights barreled straight toward her.
She squinted against the blinding glare.