Chapter 3 - One Phone Call
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The laughter continued to echo off the marble walls of the ballroom, washing over me in suffocating waves. The waiter who had spilled the wine didn't apologize; he merely smirked, grabbed his empty tray, and scurried back into the kitchen.
I didn't panic. I didn't cry.
I reached for a crisp white linen napkin from the table and slowly, methodically, wiped the red wine from my cheek. I blotted my eyelashes, took a deep breath, and reached down to open my small velvet clutch.
I pulled out my phone, bypassed the lock screen, and made one phone call.
I didn't need to scroll through my contacts. It was the only number pinned to my favorites. The line rang exactly once before it was answered.
“I need you inside,” I said quietly, my voice steady and devoid of any emotion.
I hung up and placed the phone back into my clutch.
My father, still holding the microphone at the head table, caught sight of me holding the phone. He let out a loud, theatrical sigh that echoed through the speakers.
“Oh, look everyone,” my father laughed, pointing a finger in my direction. “She’s calling for a rescue! What’s the matter, Meredith? Calling yourself a fake date? Or maybe an Uber to take you back to whatever tiny apartment you’re renting these days?”
The crowd chuckled again. Tiffany, still standing near my table, covered her mouth to hide her giggles.
“You really should just go home, Meredith,” Tiffany whispered, leaning in close. “You’re ruining Claire’s aesthetic.”
I said absolutely nothing. I remained seated, my back perfectly straight, my hands folded neatly in my lap over the ruined silk of my gown. I didn't break eye contact with my father across the room.
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I knew something he didn't. I knew that the clock was ticking, and his entire world was about to collapse.
Twenty minutes later, the heavy brass doors of the ballroom suddenly opened.
