Chapter 6 - The Wedding Aftermath
Downstairs in the grand ballroom, the reception was slowly winding down toward its final hours.
When I stepped back through the double doors, the string quartet had been replaced by a live DJ, and the dance floor was crowded with laughing guests, loosened ties, and spinning couples.
I found Penelope standing near the bar with Gabriel. My daughter had changed out of her heavy wedding gown into a sleek, ivory reception dress, her face glowing with the kind of pure, unbridled joy that no amount of family drama could extinguish.
The moment she saw me walking across the floor, her smile wavered slightly. She stepped away from Gabriel and hurried over, grabbing both of my hands.
“Mom! Where did you go? Uncle David said he saw you heading toward the elevators with... was that Charles Sterling’s lawyer?” Penelope asked, her eyes wide with a mix of worry and protective anger. “Mom, what did Dad do now? I saw the way he talked to you during dinner—I swear to God, if he ruined my wedding day—”
“Shh, sweetie,” I interrupted, pulling her into a gentle, reassuring hug. I pressed a kiss to her cheek, feeling the soft silk of her hair against my lips. “Your wedding day was beautiful. You and Gabriel looked incredible, and nothing—absolutely nothing—is going to overshadow that.”
“But Mom, Dad was acting like a total monster,” Penelope whispered fiercely against my shoulder, her voice trembling with emotion. “And that woman he brought... everyone at our table was whispering about it. Grandma wouldn't even look at me when I asked why she let him do it.”
I pulled back, holding her face between my hands.
“Listen to me, Penelope,” I said, looking straight into her eyes with absolute, unwavering calm. “Your father made his choices tonight. And tomorrow, he’s going to discover that choices have consequences. But tonight belongs to you and your husband. Go back out there on that dance floor, toss your bouquet, and enjoy every single second of your celebration.”
Penelope searched my face for a long moment, looking for the passive, accommodating mother she had known her entire life. What she found instead was a woman who had finally decided to drop the heavy burden of keeping up appearances.
A slow, fierce smile broke through her worry.
“You’re not going to take any more of his crap, are you, Mom?” she whispered.
“Not one more second, darling,” I smiled.
She threw her arms around my neck, squeezing me tight. “Good. Because you deserve so much better.”
As Penelope turned back toward Gabriel, I caught sight of Tristan standing near the exit of the ballroom.
He looked terrible. His tie was loosened, his hair was slightly disheveled, and he was aggressively whispering into his phone while pacing back and forth near the ice sculpture. Corinne was nowhere to be seen—she must have fled the venue in a taxi twenty minutes earlier after realizing that the billionaire-backed social circle she had infiltrated had just turned into a toxic waste zone.
Tristan looked up, saw me standing across the room, and started to stalk in my direction. His face was mottled with fury, his eyes narrowed into dangerous slits.
“Where have you been?” he demanded, stepping up close enough that I could smell the expensive scotch on his breath. “What kind of stunt did you pull upstairs with Sterling’s lawyers?”
I didn't step back. I didn't lower my gaze. I simply looked up at him—at the man I had served, cared for, and excused for thirty years—and felt a profound, liberating emptiness where fear used to live.
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“Go home, Tristan,” I said quietly. “Enjoy your sleep tonight. Because tomorrow afternoon at two o'clock, you’re going to need all the composure you can muster.”
Before he could stammer out a reply, I turned my back on him, walked over to the coat check to retrieve my wrap, and headed out toward the grand exit without looking back once.
