"Elena, I heard about the whole thing with Mom asking to borrow your jewelry today. Don't take it to heart. That's just how she is."

He pulled me against his chest, his voice soft.

"I know you feel hurt by it, but she's my mother. For my sake, can't you just put up with it?"

I leaned into his chest, tears swimming in my eyes.

"Vincent, that's my father's keepsake. With Mom gone, it's all I have left of them."

"I know." He stroked my hair. "I already told Mom she's never to bring it up again. She promised me. Don't worry."

He looked down at me, his eyes full of guilt and tenderness.

Warmth spread through me. I'd married the right man after all.

His mother was hard to live with, but Vincent was on my side.

I thought that was the end of it.

I was wrong.

The day of Steve's engagement, they'd booked the finest hotel in the city, and the bride's family certainly knew how to put on a show.

My future sister-in-law was named Geraldine Delgado. Her father was a city official, and she swept in like she owned the room.

I stood off in a corner, trying not to draw attention.

But Geraldine came straight toward me.

"Your belly's so big. How far along are you?"

"Five months."

"That's lovely." She smiled, then suddenly lifted her wrist and waved it in front of me.

A gold bracelet, at least fifty or sixty grams, carved with a delicate dragon-and-phoenix pattern.

"Look, this is the engagement gift my mother-in-law gave me."

Geraldine pressed her lips into a little smile and leaned in close, lowering her voice.

"I'll tell you a secret. Don't tell anyone. Auntie said this bracelet was made from a very special piece of gold. Some kind of medal, I think. I don't really know, but it's incredibly pure. She took me to the jeweler herself to have it made."

A ringing went off in my head.

"What did you say?"

"It was a gold medal. The jeweler said the gold was such fine quality, you almost never see it."

Geraldine was still talking. "Auntie said it was just sitting there doing nothing, so she might as well have it made into jewelry for me. Did Auntie have anything made for you when you got married?"

I felt like I'd been struck by lightning, rooted to the spot, shaking all over.

Could it be my father's medal?

No. Impossible. His mother had promised Vincent she wouldn't touch my things again.

"Are you all right?" Geraldine gave me a little nudge.

I came back to myself, my voice trembling.

"That gold medal. You saw it with your own eyes?"

"Yes. Auntie brought it from home, wrapped in red cloth. It had words on it, too. Something like Swan-something?"

That medal had my father's name engraved on it. It had to be his.

I grabbed Geraldine's wrist. "Where is that medal now?"

"It was made into the bracelet. This one." She was frightened of me now, yanking her hand back hard. "What are you doing? That hurts."

I stared at the bracelet on her wrist, tears dropping one after another.

That was something my father had traded his life for.

I was barely a teenager when he died.

At the memorial, I'd clutched that medal and cried until I couldn't breathe.

Now it was an ornament on someone else's wrist.

"Elena, what's wrong?"

Vincent had come over at some point, and his face changed the moment he saw me crying.

Geraldine took the chance to slip away, muttering something about a crazy woman as she went.

"Vincent, your mother stole my father's medal, melted it down, and made it into a bracelet for your sister-in-law."

I clung to his sleeve, my voice ragged.

His face shifted, caught between guilt and excuses.

"Elena, don't get worked up. There might be some kind of misunderstanding—"

"Misunderstanding what? Geraldine said it herself. Your mother carried the medal wrapped in red cloth and took her to the jeweler! It had words on it! And you're telling me it's a misunderstanding?"

I'd been too loud. People were already turning to look.

Vincent steered me to the far end of the hallway, lowered his voice, and pleaded.

"Elena, it's my brother's engagement today. Everyone here is somebody. Don't make a scene. Whatever it is, can't we just talk about it at home?"

"I'm not making a scene! Your mother stole my father's keepsake!"

"I know." He gripped my shoulders. "But think about it. If you blow this up now, where does that leave our family? If my brother's engagement falls apart, we're finished."

"Once the party's over, I'll make Mom apologize to you, all right? We'll get the bracelet back, take it to the jeweler, have it melted down and reset the way it was—"

"How is that the same thing?" I shook his hands off me. "That medal was an honor my father paid for with his life. Melt it down and it's gone forever!"

His face shifted into something close to irritation.

"Then what do you want? Call the police and have my mother arrested? She's your mother-in-law. She's the grandmother of the baby in your belly. You really want to make this big?"

I froze.

"Elena, I know this hurts. But you have to think about the bigger picture. You're heavily pregnant, married far from home, with no family behind you. If this turns into a fight, you're the one who loses."

His voice was calm. There was no warmth in it at all.

"Enough. Go rest. I'll handle things here."

He turned and walked away.

I stood in the hallway, tears running down my face and refusing to stop.

It wasn't grief.

It was the realization that Vincent had probably known about this from the very start.

I didn't leave. I splashed water on my face, went back into the banquet hall, sat in a corner, and watched a roomful of people clink glasses and toast each other.

Anne was in a dark red dress, beaming, going table to table to toast the guests.

When she reached Geraldine's table she stopped on purpose, took Geraldine's hand, and praised the bracelet on her wrist.

"My second son is a lucky man, marrying a fine girl like Geraldine."

Geraldine's mother laughed too, said her in-law was too generous, giving such a costly gift.

I watched from the side, sick to my stomach.

After the party, I rode home with Vincent.

I didn't speak the whole way. Neither did he.

Inside, Anne was on the couch cracking sunflower seeds. When she saw me, something uneasy flickered across her face, but it passed quickly.

"You're back? Elena, today was hard on you, so let Mom apologize. That business with the gold medal, Mom really shouldn't have done it."

"But Mom had no choice. You saw it yourself, Geraldine's family is well-off, and our family can't let theirs show us up. That gold medal of yours was just sitting there anyway. Better to put it to use—"

"It was my father's keepsake." I cut her off.

Her face dropped.

"I know it was your father's. But how many years has your father been dead? Your mother's gone too. You're an orphan girl. What good does keeping a thing like that do? Can you eat it? Can you spend it?"

My nails dug into my palms.

"Let me tell you something, Elena." Her voice climbed. "Don't think being pregnant lets you put on airs. Your parents are both gone, you don't even have a brother or sister, you're an outsider with a big belly. Where exactly do you think you can go?"

She looked me up and down and let out a cold laugh.

"If you know what's good for you, this is over and done with, and I'll still treat you as my daughter-in-law. If you don't, if you have to make trouble, then you can think about the consequences yourself."

"Mom, that's enough." Vincent finally spoke.

"Fine, I'll stop." Anne settled back into the couch and crossed her legs. "I've laid it all out for you anyway. You can chew on it yourself."

I went back to the bedroom and shut the door.

I picked up my phone and opened the home security camera app.

Vincent had always said he worried about me being home alone, so he'd installed cameras in the living room and the bedroom. That way, he said, he could see me anytime.

I scrolled to today's footage.

Three in the morning: nothing in the frame.

Seven: I got up.

Eight: my mother-in-law came in. She circled the bedroom, opened the drawer of my vanity, rifled through it, then opened the nightstand.

Then she stopped at the bundle of red cloth.

She unwrapped it, lifted out the medal, held it up to the light, slipped it into her pocket, and walked out.

The whole thing took less than five minutes.

I saved the clip to my phone.

Then I opened my browser and typed one line.

“how many years for destroying a Medal of Honor”

When the results loaded, my hands were shaking.

Stealing, seizing, or destroying a hero's medal, commemorative badge, or similar items is punishable by up to three years' imprisonment, detention, supervision, or deprivation of political rights; in serious cases, three to ten years' imprisonment.

I pressed the phone to my chest and closed my eyes.

My father had been gone nine years.

I remembered the last time he came home, how he crouched down and held me and told me he was going somewhere very far away, and that I should listen to my mother.

He never came back. And then my mother left me too.

Now even the last thing I had left of them was gone.

I opened my eyes and stared at the ceiling.

The baby kicked.

I laid my hand over him while the tears slid down my cheeks.

“Baby, I'm sorry.”

My phone buzzed. A message from Vincent.

“Elena, Mom says you've locked yourself in the room. Don't do anything rash. If something's wrong, come out and talk.”

I didn't reply. Another message came.

“I know you're angry, but it's already done. Making a scene won't change anything. Life goes on. Don't ruin the peace over a dead object.”

I sent back one line: “You knew all along, didn't you?”

A long time passed before he answered.

“Mom mentioned it to me. I thought she was only talking. I didn't think she'd actually take it.”

I laughed.

And while I was laughing, the tears came again.

I made a call.

“Hi, I'd like to schedule a termination.”

“How far along are you?”

“Five months.”

The line went quiet for a second. “At five months it would have to be induced. The procedure carries higher risk. Are you sure?”

“I'm sure.”

“All right, I'll register you. Tomorrow at nine in the morning, does that work?”

“Yes.”

I hung up and dialed another number.

I'd kept this number for ten years. I had never once called it.

It rang three times before someone picked up.

“Hello? Who's this?”

“Uncle Jacob James, it's me. Elena.”

The line froze for a couple of seconds.

“Elena? It's you! It's been so long. How are you?”

Uncle Jacob was an old comrade of my father's. I'd seen him at the memorial service, and before he left he'd given me this number.

He wasn't just Uncle Jacob anymore. He was Director James now.

The moment the call connected, the tears poured down my face.

“Uncle Jacob, my father's medal. Someone stole it and destroyed it.”

For three seconds there was silence on the line. Then that steady voice shot up, nothing left in it but shock and disbelief and rage.

“What! The captain's Medal of Honor, destroyed? Who did this?!”

“Where are you right now? I'm coming with my men.”