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"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.

The cheap beads bounced loudly on the marble, their light weight making a distinct, hollow clack that the heavy, organic real pearls couldn't mimic. In the dark, the guests used the sound of the bouncing fakes as a trail to find their way toward the emergency exits. buy fake pearls

Later that evening, the lights flickered and died. A transformer had blown three blocks away, plunging the marble hall into pitch blackness. In the scramble for phone flashlights, a frantic cry went up. Mrs. Sterling had tripped, and the silk thread of her $20,000 heirloom had snagged on a stray nail. "My pearls are real, so they were too

Elena didn't panic. She reached up, gave her three-dollar strand a sharp yank, and felt the plastic beads spill into her hand. The cheap beads bounced loudly on the marble,