My Brother Stole What He Thought Was A $20 Necklace For His Girlfriend. It Was Actually A $2.2 Million Company Asset. Now I’ve Had Him Arrested, Am I The Jerk?
The Friday Night Text
The text from my brother, Tyler, came through at 6:47 p.m. on a Friday, just as I was reviewing quarterly reports in my home office. The message made me pause mid-sentence in my analysis of overseas manufacturing costs.
“Hey sis, borrowed your cheap necklace from your jewelry box for my date tonight. Thanks!”
I stared at the message, trying to process what I just read. Tyler was in my apartment, going through my jewelry box, taking my cheap necklace.
The problem was I didn’t own any cheap necklaces. My phone buzzed again with another text.
“Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of it. Just wanted something nice for Emma, you know how she is about jewelry.”
I knew exactly how Emma was about jewelry. Tyler’s girlfriend of six months had expensive taste and a habit of borrowing things that somehow never made it back to their original owners.
She’d already kept two of my scarves and a designer handbag that she claimed looked better on her anyway. But this time was different.
The $2.2 Million Misunderstanding
I walked quickly to my bedroom and opened my jewelry box. Most of my everyday pieces were there: the pearl earrings from Mom, the vintage bracelet from Grandma, and the simple gold chain I wore to work.
But the blue velvet compartment in the back corner was empty. This was the compartment where I kept the Ceylon sapphire necklace.
My heart started racing as I grabbed my laptop and pulled up the Sterling Luxury inventory database. I scrolled through the active pieces until I found item number 4429.
It was the Ceylon sapphire and diamond necklace, featuring an 18-karat white gold setting and a 15.7-karat center stone surrounded by 8.3 karats of diamond accents. The estimated retail value was $2.2 million.
Tyler had just stolen a $2.2 million necklace to impress his girlfriend, and he thought it was cheap costume jewelry. I picked up my phone and typed back.
“Have fun.”
Then I immediately called James Morrison, head of security for Sterling Luxury Jewelers.
Reporting Grand Theft
“James, it’s Victoria. I need to report a theft.”
“Miss Sterling, what’s been stolen?”
“Inventory item number 4429, the Ceylon sapphire piece.”
I could hear James typing on his computer.
“The piece you took home for the insurance appraisal photos?”
“That’s the one. It’s been stolen from my residence.”
“Jesus, do you know who took it?”
I looked at Tyler’s cheerful text message, complete with the smiling emoji.
“Yes, my brother.”
“Your brother, Miss Sterling? Are you sure you want to report this as theft? Family disputes can get complicated legally.”
“James, that necklace is worth more than most people’s houses. It’s not a family dispute; it’s grand theft.”
“Understood. Where is your brother now?”
I forwarded Tyler’s earlier text from that afternoon where he’d mentioned taking Emma to Sha Lauron for their six-month anniversary dinner.
“Sha Lauron on Fifth Street. Probably just getting seated for their 7:00 reservation.”
“I’ll contact LAPD immediately and have units dispatched to the restaurant. Do you want to press full charges?”
I thought about Tyler’s text and the casual way he’d taken something from my apartment without asking. He had the assumption that my jewelry was just cheap costume pieces he could borrow for his dates.
“Full charges, James. Treat this exactly like you would any other theft of a $2 million item.”
“Copy that. I’ll call you with updates.”
A Ruined Anniversary
I hung up and sat in my home office, surrounded by the quarterly reports and business documents that Tyler had never bothered to ask about. He thought I worked at a jewelry store.
He’d never asked which jewelry store, or in what capacity, or how I could afford my downtown loft on a retail salary. If he had asked, he might have learned that Sterling Luxury Jewelers was my company.
I’d inherited it from our grandfather when I was 25 and had spent the last eight years building it into one of the most prestigious jewelry houses on the West Coast. He might have learned that the “cheap” necklace he just stole was part of our exclusive collection.
These were pieces so valuable they required armed transport and specialized insurance. He might have learned that taking inventory without authorization wasn’t borrowing; it was felony theft.
My phone rang 20 minutes later.
“Miss Sterling, this is Detective Martinez with LAPD. We have your brother in custody.”
“That was fast.”
“Well, it’s not every day we get a call about a stolen $2 million necklace. We took this one seriously.”
“What’s his condition?”
“Confused, mostly. He keeps insisting the necklace is fake and that his sister works at a jewelry store. He seems genuinely shocked that we arrested him.”
I imagine he would be.
“Miss Sterling, I have to ask: did you give your brother permission to take this necklace?”
“No. I was at work when he entered my apartment and took it from my jewelry box. I only learned about it when he texted to tell me what he’d done.”
“And he doesn’t know the value of the piece?”
“Detective, my brother thinks I’m a retail employee living paycheck to paycheck. He has no idea what I actually do for a living.”
“Which is?”
“I own Sterling Luxury Jewelers. The necklace he took is part of our private collection.”
There was a pause.
“You own the company?”
“I inherited it from my grandfather and have been CEO for eight years.”
“And your brother doesn’t know this?”
“My brother has never asked what I do for work, where my money comes from, or how I can afford my lifestyle. He’s made assumptions and I’ve never corrected them.”
“Why not?”
I looked around my home office at the awards on the walls from industry organizations and the photos of me with celebrity clients. I saw the framed Forbes article about young female entrepreneurs in luxury goods.
“Because I wanted to see if my family would love me for who I am, not what I own. And the test didn’t go well. My brother just stole from me because he assumed I had nothing worth protecting.”
Detective Martinez was quiet for a moment.
“Miss Sterling, your brother is asking to speak with you. He’s pretty shaken up.”
I imagine he is.
“Will you come down to the station?”
I checked my watch; it was almost 9:00. Tyler and Emma’s romantic anniversary dinner had been thoroughly ruined.
“I’ll be there in 30 minutes.”
Face to Face at the Precinct
The precinct was busy for a Friday night, filled with the usual mix of petty criminals and unfortunate tourists. I found Detective Martinez at his desk, a tired-looking man in his 40s who handled white-collar crime.
“Miss Sterling.”
“Detective Martinez.”
He stood and shook my hand.
“Your brother is in interview room two. He’s been asking for you for the past hour.”
“How’s his girlfriend handling this?”
