"My pearls are real, so they were too quiet to find in the dark," Mrs. Sterling said, handing Elena a small blue velvet box. Inside was a strand that felt cool to the touch and had the slight weight of something grown over years, not molded in minutes.
A dozen "real" pearls—heavy, irregular, and priceless—clattered across the floor, vanishing into the shadows.
"A trade," Mrs. Sterling said. "For the ones you broke to save us."
