Chapter 6 - The Uninvited Truth
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At eight o'clock, Eleanor Whitmore took the small stage at the head of the ballroom. She held a crystal microphone in her gloved hand, wearing a bright, practiced smile that didn't reach her eyes. The crowd gathered around the stage, eager for an explanation.
"Good evening, everyone," Eleanor began, her voice smooth as silk over the loudspeakers. "We are so thrilled to welcome you all to the Whitmore estate tonight to celebrate the union of my son, Daniel, to sweet Maya."
She paused, casting a brief, pitying glance toward me as I stood near the center of the room in my ruined gown.
"Now, I know many of you are wondering about our bride's... unique appearance this evening," Eleanor continued, a soft laugh rippling through her tone. "Maya comes from a very modest background, and sadly, stress can manifest in tragic ways. She suffered a small emotional episode prior to the ceremony and damaged her gown. But because the Whitmores value loyalty above all else, we insisted the wedding proceed!"
A sympathetic murmur went through the crowd. Some of the older society women nodded approvingly at Eleanor's graciousness. She had successfully framed me as a unstable, ungrateful charity case.
I smiled, stepped toward the stage, and reached for the second microphone sitting on the podium beside the speaker tower.
The feedback hummed loudly through the speakers, cutting Eleanor off mid-sentence.
"Thank you, Eleanor," I said into the microphone, my voice clear and razor-sharp. "That was a wonderfully touching story."
Eleanor’s smile froze. She glared at me, tightening her grip on her microphone. "Maya, dear, this is not the time—"
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"I just wanted to clarify one tiny detail for our guests," I interrupted, stepping onto the stage right beside her. "I didn't have an emotional episode, Eleanor. And I didn't ruin this dress."
The room went dead silent. Nobody moved. Nobody drank. Two hundred people stared up at the stage.
