Part 3: A Friend's WarningThe Heirloom That Nearly Killed Me

Everyone said I was lucky. Even though I had married into my wife's family, I had ended up with a wealthy wife who genuinely cared for me.

I had always believed that too.

…

Zane's new appraisal studio was lavishly decorated. An entire wall was lined with glass display cases filled with antiques and rough gemstones of every kind.

The two of us had grown up together in the same orphanage. Later, he had studied geology and jewelry appraisal, and over the years had built a respectable reputation in the industry.

When I walked in, he was examining a jewel pendant through a magnifying glass. The moment he saw me, he set it aside and grinned, punching me lightly on the shoulder.

"Schafer, you finally decided to show your face." His tone was teasing. "The last time I asked you out for drinks, you said your father-in-law had made soup for you. The time before that, I invited you to play ball, and you said your wife wasn't comfortable with you going out alone. What is it? Is it really that hard to get you out of the house now?"

I chuckled awkwardly. "She's just worried about me."

Zane rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Your wife is the model of a perfect spouse. Everyone following you on social media knows that."

He poured me a cup of coffee before tossing me a cigarette. "So? What got you coming out here today?"

"You just opened your new studio. I had to come support my best friend." Sitting down at the tea table, I looked around the room and couldn't help admiring it. "This place is incredible. Just what I'd expect from a master appraiser."

"Naturally." Zane lifted his chin proudly. "I'm fully certified now. A true professional."

Then, his eyes fell on the hand I was using to pick up my teacup before drifting to my wrist. As I lifted the cup, the cuff of my suit slid back slightly, revealing the black-and-green bracelet.

Under the lights, the beads gleamed with an inky black luster, their edges faintly shimmering green.

Zane paused. "I don't remember ever seeing you wear that bracelet before."

"What do you mean?" I laughed. "I've worn it ever since I got married. It's just usually hidden under long sleeves."

"You've been wearing it ever since you got married?"

"Yeah." I lowered my head and absentmindedly ran my fingers over the beads, unable to hide a trace of pride. "My father-in-law gave it to me. It's a Zeigler family heirloom. He said it's been passed down for three generations and is only given to the son-in-law the family truly accepts."

"A family heirloom?" Zane quirked a brow.

"That's right." Smiling, I told him about my wedding day. "My father-in-law personally put it on my wrist and said that once I wore it, I'd officially be a Zeigler. Wendy also told me it would keep me safe for the rest of my life."

At that, I smiled. "So I haven't taken it off once in the past six years."

However, the teasing smile on Zane's face slowly disappeared. "You haven't taken it off for six years?"

"That's right."

"You even wore it in the shower?"

"Of course."

"When you slept as well?"

"I kept it on then too." I answered as though it were the most natural thing in the world. "My father-in-law said old heirlooms recognize their master, so they shouldn't be taken off casually. Besides, this bracelet represents the Zeiglers' acceptance of me. I could never bring myself to remove it."

At this point, Zane was not smiling anymore. He stared at my wrist, his expression suddenly turning grave. "Schafer… roll your sleeve up."

I blinked. "Why?"

"Let me see." His voice dropped, completely different from his usual carefree tone.

Though confused by his reaction, I still did as he asked.

As I slowly rolled my sleeve higher, the skin hidden beneath the bracelet came into view.

It was red and swollen. The skin had split open in places, with thick scabs covering old wounds. Several patches had even darkened, looking as though they had been burned by years of constant friction.

Zane's eyes widened in shock. The mug in his hand struck the tea table with a loud bang.

Startled, I looked up at him. "Zane?"

He did not answer but simply stared fixedly at my wrist as every trace of color drained from his face. "When did this start?"

I glanced down at my wrist, feeling a little embarrassed, and instinctively reached to pull my sleeve back down.