Chapter 13 - The Waiter's Confession
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The waiter was trembling violently, his eyes darting wildly around the room. The arrogant smirk he had worn while pouring the Cabernet all over my Parisian gown was completely gone, replaced by stark, animalistic terror.
The security guards threw him roughly to his knees directly in front of Adrian and me.
“Speak,” Adrian commanded. It wasn't a request. It was an order from a king.
The waiter gulped, looking up at Adrian with tears in his eyes.
“I didn't want to do it, Mr. Vale! I swear!” the boy cried out, his voice cracking. “I just needed the money for tuition. I didn't know she was your wife! Please, don't ruin my life!”
“Who paid you?” Adrian asked, his voice deathly calm.
The waiter hesitated, his eyes darting toward the head table.
“Point to them,” Adrian instructed softly.
Slowly, the waiter raised a shaking hand. He didn't point at my father. He didn't point at my spoiled sister.
He pointed his finger directly at my mother.
“She did,” the waiter sobbed. “Mrs. Harrington. She met me in the hallway before the reception started. She gave me two thousand dollars in cash. She told me to wait until the speeches started, walk past Table 19, and dump a full tray of red wine on her older daughter.”
The remaining guests gasped, turning their horrified gazes toward my mother.
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My stomach churned. I knew my mother favored Claire, and I knew she resented my independence. But to actively orchestrate my public humiliation on her other daughter's wedding day? It was a level of petty malice I couldn't comprehend.
“Why?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper, looking at the woman who gave birth to me. “Why would you do that?”
