Chapter 3 - A Mother's Fury|
“Jealous?”
The word left my mouth before I could process it. My voice echoed across the quiet ballroom, deeper and harder than I had ever heard it before.
I walked past the rows of stunned guests, past the tables covered in ivory lace and sterling silver. I stopped right at the foot of the head table, staring up at my sister.
“Is that what you think this is, Vanessa?” I asked, my body trembling with a mixture of profound shock and rising fury. “Jealousy?”
“Claire, shut your mouth!”
My mother, Eleanor Whitmore, rushed forward from her front-row table. She grabbed my arm with a grip like steel, her manicured nails digging into my skin through the fabric of my navy dress.
“You’ve always been a bitter girl,” Mom spat, her voice low and venomous so the outer tables wouldn't hear. “You bring your brat into my daughter’s wedding and ruin the most important night of her life? Get out. Take your child and get out before I call the police!”
I turned my head and looked directly into my mother’s eyes.
For thirty-two years, I had feared that look. I had spent my childhood trying to earn her approval, taking the blame for Vanessa’s mistakes, apologizing for being the daughter who didn't fit into her high-society vision.
I yanked my arm out of her grip so hard she stumbled backward against a flower arrangement.
“Touch me again,” I whispered, “and the police won't be calling you. They’ll be coming for you.”
Mom gasped, clutching her pearls in genuine shock.
Up on the stage, the video continued to play.
“What about Graham?” Mark’s voice asked on the speakers. “Does he know you’re using his firm to clear the offshore accounts?”
The entire room seemed to shift.
Graham Ellison wasn’t just a wealthy groom. He was a senior partner at Ellison, Vance & Reed, one of the most prestigious corporate law firms in New England.
May you like
Graham slowly turned his head to look at Vanessa. The love that had been in his eyes moments earlier during his speech was completely gone, replaced by the terrifyingly cold gaze of a seasoned trial lawyer.
“What offshore accounts, Vanessa?” Graham asked softly.
