My Deceased Wife Wants a Divorce (Hannah) novel Chapter 133

Lionel nodded. He thought he had just seen Hannah, but she should have been at the hospital. He must have been mistaken.

As they continued walking, his eyes were drawn to a necklace displayed in the window of the resale shop. He stopped dead in his tracks.

“Mr. Rosenberg?” Owen paused, confused. He followed Lionel’s gaze and saw the necklace. His mind went blank.

Why is that necklace here? What’s going on?

He looked up at the store’s name—a high-end consignment shop—and swallowed hard, his mind racing to come up with an explanation.

Lionel strode into the store, his expression grim. The owner, seeing his expensive suit, immediately rushed over.

“Good afternoon, sir. Can I help you find something? A gift for a loved one, perhaps?” the owner said cheerfully. “We may be a resale shop, but all our items are authenticated and in near-mint condition. You’d never know they weren’t straight from the boutique.”

“That necklace in the window. I want to see it,” Lionel said, his voice as cold as ice.

Owen, standing beside him, shivered. He discreetly reached into his pocket, planning to text Sandra and ask what was going on.

“Excellent eye, sir. That piece just came in a few days ago. I’m told it’s one of a kind in the country.” The owner put on a pair of gloves, carefully retrieved the necklace, and presented it on a velvet tray.

“The young lady who sold it was going through a family emergency and had to part with it. She said her lover gave it to her just a couple of weeks ago, and she’d only worn it two or three times. It’s practically new.”

Lionel stared down at the necklace. There was no doubt. It was the one he had given to Hannah. But he had never seen her wear it.

“The person who sold these… did she just leave?” Lionel pressed.

The owner took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, sir. I can’t answer that.”

Lionel’s face was a thundercloud. He stood up and barked at Owen, “Contact the mall manager. I want the security footage from this area. Now.”

So it hadn’t been his imagination. That was Hannah.

She was selling the jewelry he had given her behind his back.

Owen hurried off, pulling out his phone to call Sandra.