They Forced Me to Return the Heirloom Diamond—But My Wedding Ring Cost Only $9.99 Chapter 10
I deleted it.
She sent another.
Even if you don’t show up, people will still laugh at
him. Tessa, you were never cut out to be Mrs.
Hart.
I didn’t reply.
After work, I didn’t go back to my apartment. I took
a taxi to the old night market.
I hadn’t been there in a long time. Half the stalls
had changed.
The ring stall was still there. The vendor wore an
apron and was helping a young girl pick out a hair
clip.
I walked over.
She looked at me for a few seconds, then her eyes
lit up.
–
“Oh! It’s you the newlywed.”
I smiled.
“You have a good memory.”
“Of course. You picked out a $9.99 ring like it was
a diamond. You were so serious about it.”
My fingers brushed the display board.
“Do you still have that one?”
The vendor searched around and shook her head.
“That style is discontinued. But I have something.
similar.”
She pulled out a row of thin rings.
–
“It’s gone up, though $12.99 now.”
Just as I was about to speak, a deep voice came
from behind me.
“Do you have one for $9.99?”
I turned.
Ethan stood under the night market sign, his suit jacket draped over his arm, looking completely out
of place on the busy street.
The vendor looked at him, then at me, and grinned.
“Oh, the husband?”
Ethan’s ears went redder.
He walked up to the stall and looked at the row of
cheap rings with more intensity than he’d ever
shown at a jewelry exhibition.
The vendor said, “Sir, are you buying for your
wife?”
He shook his head.
“For myself.”
The vendor froze.
I did too.
Ethan reached out and picked the simplest plain.
ring from the tray.
The vendor hesitated. “That might be too small.”
He tried it.
It was too small. It got stuck on his second
knuckle
couldn’t go on, couldn’t come off.
The vendor panicked. “Oh, don’t yank! I’ll get some
soapy water.”
Ethan looked down at his trapped finger, his
expression unusually stiff.
I watched for two seconds, then laughed.
He looked up at me.
The night market lights reflected in his eyes. His
embarrassment suddenly felt very real.
The vendor brought soapy water and fiddled with
it until the ring finally came off.
Ethan’s knuckle was red.
He picked out a larger size.
This time, it went on.
$9.99.
Silver–white.
Very thin.
It didn’t look like him at all.
He raised his hand and looked at me.
“It hurts.”
My smile faded.
He said quietly, “Did it hurt for you too?”
I looked at the cheap ring on his finger, then
looked away after a few seconds.
The vendor handed him the receipt.
“Here you go, sir. Keep it safe.”
Ethan folded it carefully and tucked it into the
back of his wallet.
I turned and walked out of the night market.
He followed, keeping a few steps behind.
When I reached the corner, I stopped.
“Ethan.”
“Yes.”
“Don’t wear that to the anniversary banquet.”
He looked at me.
I said, “People will laugh.”
He looked down at the ring.
“Let them laugh.”
He paused.
“It’s my turn to be laughed at.”
In the end, I went to the Hart family anniversary
banquet that night.
Not because of Ethan.
Because Chloe had run into my office that
afternoon holding flowers, saying someone had delivered a dress and an invitation downstairs.
The gown wasn’t the usual Hart family couture.
No giant skirt. No heavy jewelry.
Just a simple mist–blue dress with a clean waist
and sleeves that ended above the wrist- easy to
move in, easy to eat in.
The invitation had my name on it.
Tessa Clark.
Next to it, a handwritten card.
You don’t have to come. The seat will stay empty.
Signed, Ethan.
I stared at those words for a long time.
Then I changed clothes.
When my car pulled up to the Hart hotel, the medial
was packed on both sides.
As soon as I stepped out, flash bulbs went off.
Someone shouted, “Mrs. Hart is here!”
I paused.
Then the emcee at the banquet hall entrance lifted his microphone, and his voice carried across the
crowd.
“Welcome, Tessa Clark.”
Not Mrs. Hart.
Tessa Clark.
I looked up.
Ethan stood just inside the doorway, in a black suit. On his left ring finger, he wore the very thin
plain band.
The $9.99 one.
Among all the diamonds and luxury watches, it
looked cheap and obvious.
He walked toward me but didn’t reach for me. He
stopped one step away.
“You came.”
I looked at his hand.
“You really wore it?”
He glanced down.
“Yes.”
“Mr. Hart, you might end up trending tonight.”
“Already am.”
He handed me his phone.
The trending topic was near the top.
#EthanHartWears CheapRing
The comments section looked like New Year’s
Eve.
Some people said the Harts had gone bankrupt.
Others said it was a new kind of rich–person
performance art.
Someone had even filmed him picking out the ring at the night market, captioning it: This guy looked like he was going to buy the whole street, but he ended up spending $9.99.
I almost laughed out loud.
Ethan watched the small smile on my lips, and the
tension in his eyes eased.
“Let’s go.”
He didn’t hold my arm.
It wasn’t until I took a step that he followed half a
step behind.
Inside the banquet hall, the entire Hart family
turned to stare.
Margaret sat at the head table, her expression
complicated.
Ivy was there too.
She wore a white evening gown and stood next to Margaret, holding a glass of champagne.
When she saw Ethan and me walk in together, her
eyes went straight to Ethan’s hand.
That plain ring was too bright.
So bright that she could barely keep her smile in place.
“Ethan.”
She stepped forward, her voice forced to be
sweet.
“I didn’t think you’d cause such a scene tonight.”
Ethan stopped..
“Call me Mr. Hart.”
Ivy’s face went pale.
Margaret frowned. “Ethan, there are so many
guests tonight.”
“Perfect.”
Ethan turned and took the microphone from a
waiter.
The room went silent.
I stood beside him and suddenly sensed what was
coming.
He hadn’t warned me.
Ethan looked out at the guests, his voice clear.
“Thank you all for coming to the Hart family.
anniversary banquet.”
He raised his left hand.
The $9.99 ring glinted under the lights.
Someone in the crowd inhaled.
He didn’t look away.
“I want to clear something up first.”
Margaret’s face changed.
Ivy froze.
“Two years ago, at my wedding to Tessa Clark, the Hart family wedding ring never made it onto her
finger.”
The hall erupted.
He pressed a remote.
The screen lit up.
Surveillance footage from backstage. Jewelry store confirmation slips. Ivy’s pickup signature.
The replica ring invoice. All of it appeared, one
after another.
No extra explanation.
Every frame was clear.
The champagne glass in Ivy’s hand wobbled. Wine splashed onto her white dress.
She stepped forward. “Ethan, are you really going
to destroy me like this?”
He looked at her.
“For two years, you wore her ring. Sat in her seat.
Borrowed her identity.”
He paused.
“Tonight, it ends.”
