Chapter 2 - A Nocturnal Waltz Under Crystal Lights
Twenty minutes before the tragedy struck, the grand ballroom of the hotel looked like a lavish dream that only the unimaginably wealthy could order from heaven. Massive crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, casting a dazzling light over the carefully arranged arches of white roses. Towers of champagne glasses stacked impossibly high glowed with a liquid gold hue under the warm lights. Everything was perfect—a perfection bought with the deep pockets of the Whitmore family.
I stood in the center of this magnificent space, offering polite smiles to the high-society guests and business partners of my new in-laws. Daniel stood right by my side, his hand resting protectively on my waist. He looked at me with an intense, burning affection, as if in this crowded room of hundreds of people, I was the only living being breathing, the very center of his universe.
But that beautiful picture was quickly defiled. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my father, Frank Hale, cutting through the crowd toward us.
He wore an expensive suit—paid for by Daniel, of course—but his demeanor could not hide the cheap, thuggish nature beneath the luxury fabric. Frank carried a smug, condescending sneer on his lips, the very trademark of his personality. It was the kind of sneer that made waiters walk faster out of fear, and made relatives lower their eyes to avoid his gaze.
Following closely behind him was my mother, Patricia. She wore a shimmering silver silk dress, her neck adorned with a pearl necklace she had practically forced me to buy her last month. She glided through the room, trying to appear elegant and upper-class, but her forced grace could not hide the greed in her eyes as she calculated the value of every decoration and guest in the room.
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And, of course, there was Tyler, my dear brother. Tyler was leaning against the bar, a glass of hard liquor in hand, flirting shamelessly with a bridesmaid. Just last week, he had wept and begged Daniel for twelve thousand dollars, claiming a "business emergency," which in reality went straight to paying off his illegal sports betting debts.
They were here, at my wedding, not to celebrate, but to see how much more they could bleed from the golden mine named Whitmore.
