Chapter 102 THE ROYAL NECKLACE.

Chapter 102 THE ROYAL NECKLACE.
THANE'S POV:
I kept my smile steady because that’s what you do when power presses a hand into yours: you return the pressure with grace. President Kwame Alade's palm was warm, his handshake firm enough to say he’d been tested a hundred times and never failed. He smiled like he meant peace. The room noise shrank to a dull buzz at the edge of my hearing.
“Mr. Slade,” he said, voice powerful. “It is an honor.”
 "The honor is mine, sir. Thank you for the invite.” My words were polite. My throat felt dry; my hands were steady because there wasn’t room for shaking. Not here. Not now. " I'm Thane Slade, professional hockey player with the New York Sentinels. What you're doing here with the foundation, ending child marriage... it's extraordinary work." I decided to introduce myself.
His grip remained firm as he held my hand a beat longer than necessary. "Please, call me Agu. Formality makes me uncomfortable."
"Yes, sir...I mean, Agu," I quickly corrected.
The First Lady held my gaze for a second longer than etiquette required. She reached for my hand too.
"You contributed a million dollars. We're very grateful, Mr. Slade. That's an extraordinary commitment."
"It's an extraordinary cause." I extended my hand.
Her eyes were curious, and then something changed: curiosity, recognition. It was gone before I could identify it.
 She studied my face, still holding my hand. "What brings you to Seattle? Surely not just our little fundraiser."
Adeyemi approached us, standing beside the President. He looked uncomfortable.
I hadn’t come for politics or power. I came for a truth that had been clawing at me since the moment I saw the first lady wearing the same necklace as Madison’s.
"I'm here for personal reasons," I said carefully. "Research, actually. About ancestry." I decided to start off subtly since Adeyemi was there.
Her expression didn't change, but her hand tightened fractionally on mine before she released it. "That's a complex topic."
"I'm learning that."
"And why would someone like you navigate towards that direction?"
My mouth went dry. Something about this man—his authority, his intensity, the way he looked at me like he could see every lie I'd ever told—made my usual confidence evaporate.
 He gestured to the elegant space around us. "I'm surprised, if I'm honest. Some of your kind don't often show interest in humanitarian causes or topics. You are an exception."
My kind? "I'm sorry—what do you mean by 'my kind'?"
The First Lady's hand settled gently on her husband's arm, her smile brightening as she spoke over him smoothly. "He means wealthy athletes. Nothing more. My husband sometimes forgets his diplomacy."
But I'd seen the change in President Kwame's eyes. He'd meant something else entirely.
My attention caught on the necklace at her throat, identical to Madison's. Up close, the craftsmanship was even more stunning.
"That's beautiful," I said, nodding toward it. "The necklace. Incredible craftsmanship."
Her hand moved to touch it instinctively, protectively. "Thank you. You have an eye for quality."
"I've noticed you wear it in every public appearance. Every photo, every event, it's always that specific piece, even when it doesn't quite match your outfit."
Silence stretched for a heartbeat. President Kwame's eyebrows rose slightly. Adeyemi shifted his weight.
"You've done your research," the First Lady said slowly. "That's... impressive."
"Is there a particular reason?" I kept my voice casual, curious. "Why that necklace specifically?"
She exchanged a glance with her husband before shrugging elegantly. "No specific reason. Pure coincidence. It simply happens to be my favorite piece."
Lie. I'd seen enough of them to recognize one.
"Is it available anywhere else? I'd love to get something similar for my fiancée. She appreciates traditional African jewelry."
"No." The word came out abrupt. She softened it with a smile. "There are only three pieces in existence. This one, which I wear. Another my husband wears on formal occasions. And the last was lost in Azuvia years ago. It's peculiar to our region, made nowhere else in the world. The technique is... protected."
Only three pieces. And Madison had one.
"Do you have children?" I blurted out the question. "A daughter, maybe?"
The change was immediate and violent. Both their faces shuttered. President Kwame's jaw tightened. His wife's hand went rigid on his arm.
"I think," President Kwame said, his voice cooling by degrees, "that I need to meet with other guests. This is becoming an improper discussion. There's no need to get personal."
"Mr. Slade be escorted out," Adeyemi interjected quickly, speaking for the first time since he got there. He stepped forward. "I'm sure he understands that the President and First Lady have—"
"Whatever you're thinking is wrong," the First Lady debunked, speaking over Adeyemi without acknowledging him. "We never had children of our own. So please don't start spreading crazy rumors or whatever's going on in your head."
Her denial was too vehement. Too fast. Like she'd practiced it.
I reached into my suit pocket. My fingers closed around the velvet box I'd brought, the one I'd borrowed from Madison before leaving the Netherlands. She'd never miss it for a few days.
"Before I leave," I said, pulling it out, "I need you to see something."
Adeyemi moved to intercept. "Mr. Slade, this is highly inappropriate—"
"It's fine, Adeyemi." President Kwame's shunned him. His eyes had locked onto the red velvet box. "Let him speak."
Adeyemi's fingers fidgeted with his tie, loosening it a notch as his collar suddenly felt suffocating.
He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing with the gesture.
I opened it. Madison's necklace caught the light, every stone glittering, identical to the one at the First Lady throat.
Her painted lips parted, but no sound came out. A tremor crossed her jaw before she masked it. But, she swayed. Actually swayed, her hand flying to her mouth, eyes going wide with shock.
"Where did you get that?" Her voice came out strangled.
President Kwame's arm went around her waist, steadying her, but his eyes never left the necklace. "Answer her. Where?"
"My fiancée has had it since she was a baby." I watched them carefully. I told them all about Madison as a baby: where she was found and taken in by the orphanage. How the only thing with her was this necklace and no identification. No name. No records. Just her and this.
"No." The First Lady shook her head, tears starting to stream. "No, that's not—it can't—"
President Kwame's face had gone hard. Yet, his hand trembled where it gripped his wife's waist. His eyes scanned the room, landing on men I hadn't noticed before. They wore suits, blended perfectly with other guests, but their posture gave them away.
Security. His personal detail.
He made a subtle gesture. Immediately, four men came around us, forming a loose perimeter.
"Where is she?" President Kwame demanded. He tried to keep his voice low but it reeked of urgency. "Your fiancée. Where is she now?"
"In the Netherlands. But I need to understand—"
"Ladies and gentlemen." Adeyemi's voice boomed through the sound system, his face pale and panicked. I didn't even notice when he'd slipped away. "I regret to announce that the President and First Lady have been called away due to an urgent matter. Thank you for your understanding and your continued support."
The room erupted in confused murmurs. Guests set down glasses, gathering belongings, moving toward exits.
"We're leaving," President Kwame said, his hand resting firmly on my elbow. "You're coming with us."
"I don't think—"
"That wasn't a request." His grip tightened. Not painful but unbreakable.
"And if I refuse?"
There was no answer. Instead, They guided me, no, herded me through the crowd toward a private exit. The First Lady on one side, her husband on the other, security boxing us in. Adeyemi trailed behind, speaking rapidly into his phone.
"Sir, perhaps we should—" Adeyemi tried, beads of sweat trailing down his face.
"Go handle the guests," President Kwame ordered without looking back. "Make sure everyone leaves quietly. No press. No questions."
"But the security protocol—"
"Is my decision. Go."
We emerged into a loading area where a black SUV waited, engine running. Tinted windows. Diplomatic plates. Vehicle designed to be unremarkable and impenetrable at the same time.
President Kwame opened the door, gesturing for me to enter.
Something felt wrong. My instincts told me there was danger, but the First Lady's tear-streaked face, her trembling hands clutching the necklace box, unsettled me more.
"I need to call someone," I said. "Let them know where I'm going."
"You can call from the car." The President's voice left no room for argument. "Please, Mr. Slade. We're not going to hurt you. We just need privacy for this conversation."
I climbed in. The First Lady slid in beside me, still staring at the necklace like it might disappear. President Kwame took the seat across from us.
The door slammed shut. The locks engaged with an audible click.
We pulled out of the loading area into Seattle traffic. Rain had started again, making the windows blur.
"Now," President Kwame got my attention, still looking intense.
I was waiting for him to say more. That didn't happen. Instead, something hissed, a whisper of air near my neck. Then burning pain, electric, bloomed under my skin. My hand flew up instinctively, but my fingers felt heavy and detached.  I found something small embedded in my skin. I pulled it out to see it was a tiny dart.
"What—" The word slurred.
The First Lady's face swam in my vision, her mouth moving but I couldn't hear the words. President Kwame was shouting at someone, fury in his expression.
The world tilted sideways. My body wouldn't respond to my commands. Couldn't move my arms. Couldn't keep my eyes open.
"Sorry... protocol... security..." Words filtered through the fog. Whose voice? Where?
Darkness pulled at me, suffocating.
My last coherent thought before everything went black: Madison. I never told her where I was going. If something happened to me, she'd never know why.