Chapter 3 - The Ring on the Table
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A few guests in the front row gasped audibly. My own mother, sitting at the family table, half-stood from her chair, her face pale with shock and outrage.
Daniel panicked. He reached out and grabbed my wrist, his grip uncomfortably tight.
"Emma, stop it," he hissed through gritted teeth. "Don’t embarrass me in front of my entire family."
I yanked my arm away with a violent jerk.
"You’re worried about embarrassment?" I asked, my voice rising, vibrating with a mix of fury and profound heartbreak. "Your mother just demanded my career and my home on a microphone, and you're worried about your ego?"
Margaret stepped down from the stage, walking toward our table. Her designer heels clicked against the hardwood floor.
"Emma, you are being hysterical," Margaret scolded, wagging a manicured finger at me. "We are simply setting the foundation for a traditional, respectful marriage. My son deserves a wife who will put his needs above her selfish ambitions."
I looked at the man I had planned to spend the rest of my life with. I saw all the years we had spent together flashing before my eyes—the vacations, the late-night conversations, the promises of an equal partnership. It was all a meticulously crafted lie. He didn't want a partner. He wanted a placeholder. He wanted a host he could leach success from.
Without breaking eye contact with Daniel, I reached for my left hand.
I grabbed the two-carat diamond engagement ring and the matching wedding band he had slipped onto my finger just an hour ago. The metal felt cold and suffocating.
I slid them off.
Daniel’s face completely changed. The annoyance melted into genuine, unfiltered panic.
"Emma, wait," he stammered, reaching for my hand. "What are you doing? Put that back on."
May you like
I slammed the rings down onto the white linen tablecloth right next to his half-empty champagne glass. The heavy clink of the diamonds hitting the crystal echoed in my own ears.
"I'm giving you exactly what you asked for," I said softly.
