THE NECKLACE

Ethan Valentine was polite, gentle, sweet, and almost invisible in a crowd — which suited him just fine. He worked quietly at the lower level of his family’s company, Vale Diamonds, though few people knew his last name was associated with the one engraved on glittering storefronts across the world.

His father, the company’s founder, had overseen the growth of his business into a global powerhouse. And he reveled in teaching the business to Ethan from the ground up.

Ethan wanted someone to love him — not the name, not the fortune, not the promise of a life figuratively ensconced in velvet and champaign.

He met Clara at the backyard barbecue of a mutual friend. It was a dark, clear night in the Hamptons, and the stars sparkled like the facets of a diamond.

Clara stood aside the roaring fire pit, the warmth of the flames caressing her face against the cool evening air. As she peered upward, a soft but masculine voice interjected.

“That’s the constellation Scorpius. Do you see the bright, red star at its center? It’s called Antares. It’s the Scorpion’s distant, ruby heart.”

While maintaining her celestial gaze, Clara responded, “If we listen carefully, do you think we could hear it beating?”

Ethan answered, “I doubt it. But if you do listen very intently, you might hear mine.”

Clara slowly turned to face Ethan, and the two smiled, each inwardly knowing that this moment was the beginning of a passionate relationship.

She wasn’t the kind of woman one would forget — not with the lush, blond hair, the dazzling blue eyes, and the alluring, seductive smile.

Clara was in the process of finishing a Master’s Degree in marketing at Columbia University, while working part-time at a local boutique. She enjoyed having access to fine clothing and jewelry, having a proclivity for “the finer things in life.”

As Ethan and Clara walked amongst the silver maples and red oaks common in the Hamptons, he talked about books, travel, family, and numerous other quiet things that didn’t cost anything. She teased him about being “too humble for his own good,” but something about his confidence and serenity drew her in.

For three months, they were inseparable. Movie nights, long walks, late-night talks about love and ambition. Ethan had never felt so close to anyone. And the love-making, in Clara’s own words, rocked her world.

One evening, he invited her to dinner on the pier. The city lights flickered across the water, and in that golden reflection, Ethan handed her a small black velvet box.

“I saw this,” he said softly, “and it reminded me of you.”

Inside was a silver chain holding a delicate dragonfly, its rufescent eyes gleaming, in its thorax a single glimmering stone no larger than a tear. Under the pier lights, it shimmered like captured starlight.

Clara smiled, but it was the kind of smile that seemed to depict unhappiness and disappointment. She stared at the dragonfly necklace for a few seconds, then looked up at Ethan.

“It’s… cute,” she said. “But, honestly, this isn’t the kind of gift you give a woman you love. It’s really more of a cheap trinket, something you might give a teenager for her sweet sixteen.” With that, she handed the box back to Ethan.

Ethan winced. “But it’s about what it means. The value is in the feeling behind it, not the price tag.”

She laughed lightly. “I know, I know — you’re sentimental. But Ethan, by now I think you should know me better than this. Like the song says, I tend to be a material girl. That’s just the way I am.”

He looked at her for a long moment. Then he smiled faintly and closed the box.

They broke up that night.

Weeks passed. Clara tried to move on, but Ethan lingered in the corners of her mind — his eyes, his voice, his calmness, and his sweetness.

One afternoon, she was helping her boutique manager unpack new arrivals when her gaze froze on the front page of Vogue Luxe. There, gleaming under the headline “The Vale Legacy Continues,” was a photograph of Ethan — in a tailored suit, shaking hands with a European prince.

The caption read: Ethan Valentine, heir to the Vale Diamonds empire, announced as new CEO following his father’s retirement.

Clara’s knees nearly buckled.

She rushed home, pulled up the company’s website, and there it was: the same necklace — her necklace — featured in their “Celestial Rarity” collection. Estimated value: $250,000.

Her heart pounded. The “cheap trinket” she had dismissively tossed aside was worth more than her family’s entire life savings.

That night, she drafted a message. Then another. And another. Apologies, explanations, a confession of how she’d been foolish, how she missed him, how maybe — just maybe — they could start again.

The next day, she received a reply:

“Clara, I appreciate your honesty. Let’s meet. The same pier, tomorrow night.”

She spent hours preparing — perfect dress, perfect makeup, perfect everything.

When Ethan arrived, he looked different: sharper, colder, like someone who had learned how to wear power like a second skin.

He greeted her politely, offered her a seat, and listened as she spoke — about regret, about misunderstanding, about how she had grown.

When she was finished, he reached into his pocket and set something on the table.

It was the necklace.

“I kept this,” he said, “as a reminder.”

Her eyes softened. “A reminder of me?”

He smiled faintly. “A reminder of how easy it is to mistake worth for value.”

She reached for the necklace, but he drew it back. “There’s something I should tell you,” he said. “That diamond — it’s real. But it’s flawed. A tiny fracture inside. To the untrained eye, it’s perfect, but it will never shine quite like the others.”

He paused. “I used to think that made it special.”

“Ethan, I had no idea,” she began. “If I’d known—”

“That’s just it,” he interrupted softly. “I wanted someone who didn’t need to know.”

Clara’s words faltered. “I made a mistake.”

He nodded. “We both learned something. You about the necklace, and I about what kind of woman I’m searching for.”

He rose, offering her the faintest, saddest smile. “One who sees value before price.”

Her breath caught. “Ethan—”

He stood. “I don’t hold grudges, Clara. I wish you the life you want. Truly.”

He started to walk away, but she called after him, “Do you still believe in love without price tags?”

He turned slightly, his expression unreadable. “I believe in love that knows what it’s worth.”

Then he placed the necklace on the railing and left.

When Clara reached for it, the clasp slipped between her fingers and fell, shattering on the wooden pier like a crystal chalice.

Only then did she realize the final truth: it wasn’t a diamond anymore. It had been replaced with glass.

And the real one — the flawless one — had walked away.