Chapter 1 - The Escalation and the Slap
Clarissa Hayes leaned in so close I could smell the suffocating, heavy scent of her expensive French perfume mixed with the sharp bite of red wine. Her eyes were dark with a malicious pleasure that sent a shiver straight down my spine.
"You think you’re slick, don't you?" she sneered, her voice dropping to a harsh whisper so only the immediate circle could hear. "A little nobody sneaking her way into my son’s life, waiting for the right moment to sink your claws into our family’s wealth. But you chose the wrong mother-in-law, girl. I see right through you."
Before I could answer, Clarissa turned toward the entrance of the VIP lounge area and snapped her fingers.
"Chloe! Come here, sweetheart!"
From behind a cluster of silk-draped tables emerged an eight-year-old girl dressed in a floor-length velvet dress. It was Chloe, Brandon’s daughter from his previous marriage. I had met Chloe twice before, and every time, I had tried to be gentle and kind to her. But Clarissa had spent years poisoning the child’s mind, teaching her that anyone without a pedigree was beneath them.
Chloe marched over, her little face contorted into an ugly, spoiled scowl.
"Grandma, why is she wearing that ugly yellow rags dress?" Chloe demanded loudly, pointing a small finger at me. "She looks like a maid!"
Clarissa patted Chloe’s head, a dark, wicked smile playing on her lips. "She is trash, sweetie. And what do we do with trash?"
"We throw it away!" Chloe shrieked.
Before anyone could stop her—not that anyone wanted to—Chloe lunged forward. She grabbed the delicate fabric of my pale yellow dress at the ribs and yanked down with all her weight.
RIP.
The sound of tearing silk echoed loudly across the immediate radius. The side seam of my dress split wide open from my waist to my thigh, exposing my slip. A chorus of gasps rippled through the room, quickly replaced by snickers.
Chloe didn't stop there. She grabbed a half-empty glass of dark red Cabernet from a nearby waiter’s tray and tossed it straight at my chest. The deep crimson liquid splashed across the front of my pale yellow dress, soaking through the fabric like a violent stain.
"Get away from my daddy, you poor trash!" Chloe yelled, stomping her foot.
My heart shattered. I stood frozen in the middle of the grand ballroom, clutching the ripped fabric of my dress together with trembling hands, soaked in cold red wine.
The entire room of 200 high-society guests erupted into cruel, ringing laughter.
"Oh my god, look at her!" Natasha shrieked, holding her phone up high. "This is going straight to TikTok! 'Gold digger gets ruined at Hayes Gala'!"
"She's live right now!" cousin Jessica chimed in, thrusting her phone right into my face. "Over fifty thousand people are watching this live stream right now! Say cheese, homeless girl!"
Tears finally welled in my eyes, burning my throat. I turned my eyes toward Brandon. My boyfriend. The man who had spent eight months telling me he loved me, the man who had held my hand through every cold evening, the man who called me his future.
Brandon stood two feet away. He was pale, his eyes wide, shifting his feet uncomfortably. But he didn't move. He didn't step between his daughter and me. He didn't take off his suit jacket to cover my ripped dress. He just looked down at his polished leather shoes, terrified of standing up to his mother.
"Brandon..." I whispered, my voice cracking beneath the weight of absolute betrayal. "Please..."
He looked up for a brief second, his eyes filled with cowardly panic, and mouthed, Don't make a scene, Emma. Just apologize so Mom calms down.
A hollow, agonizing void opened in my chest. He was ashamed of me. He cared more about his mother’s approval and his family’s social standing than he did about my dignity.
Clarissa saw the exchange and smirked. She stepped directly into my personal space, towering over me in her seven-inch heels.
"Look at you," Clarissa said, her voice ringing out clearly over the hushed room. "A snickering, crying pathetic little leech. You thought you could marry into the Hayes family? You aren't even fit to wash our floors."
"I loved your son," I choked out, holding my head high despite the tears streaming down my cheeks. "I didn't care about your money. I never did."
"Liar!" Clarissa spat.
Without a second of hesitation, Clarissa raised her right hand—adorned with a massive three-carat diamond ring—and struck me across the face with everything she had.
CRACK!
The force of the slap whipped my head to the side. The sharp edge of her diamond ring sliced across my cheekbone, leaving a stinging welt that immediately began to bleed. The physical shock sent me stumbling back against a linen-covered table.
The crowd gasped again, but then the laughter returned, louder and meaner.
"That's how we deal with leeches!" Natasha shouted into her phone camera. "Check the view count, guys! We hit 500,000 viewers! Keep sharing!"
I wiped the blood from my cheek with a trembling hand, looking at Clarissa, at Natasha, at little Chloe who was clapping her hands, and finally at Brandon, who still stood like a stone statue, refusing to meet my eyes.
Three million people live online, I thought, seeing the phone screens glowing all around me. Three million people watching me be degraded, mocked, and struck.
And then, the heavy glass windows of the Grand View Hotel ballroom began to vibrate.
It started as a low, deep rumble that vibrated through the floorboards, rattling the crystal stemware on the tables. The crystal chandeliers hanging from the high ceilings began to sway softly, their prisms clinking together in a delicate, ominous alarm.
"What is that?" Kenneth Hayes, Brandon's father, muttered, looking up from his cigar. "Is that a earthquake?"
The rumble grew into a deafening, thundering roar that drowned out the music, the laughter, and the clicking of phone cameras. Blinding white floodlights suddenly cut through the darkness outside the floor-to-ceiling glass walls that overlooked the hotel's private rooftop helipad.
Huge gusts of wind slammed against the glass, tearing away decorative banners outside.
A massive, sleek, dark-navy Sikorsky S-76 helicopter—bearing a roaring golden lion crest on its tail—descended smoothly from the night sky, hovering just yards above the rooftop pad before settling down with a heavy, commanding authority.
The crowd fell completely silent. The laughter died instantly. Phones lowered as eyes widened in pure bewilderment.
"Whose helicopter is that?" Clarissa asked, her voice losing its smugness for the first time all night. "No one on the guest list was approved for a helipad landing!"
May you like
Kenneth’s face drained of color as he stared at the golden lion crest on the side of the aircraft. His wine glass slipped from his fingers, shattering onto the marble floor.
"Oh, God..." Kenneth whispered, his voice shaking violently. "That's... that's Harrison Global."
