Part 2: The Stain of Truth
The silence shattered. A collective gasp sucked the air out of the room.
“What is she doing?” I whispered, my voice trembling. “Mrs. Vance, where is Ryan?”
She stepped closer to me, invading my personal space. She smelled of expensive perfume and rot.
“Ryan is where he belongs,” she said into the microphone, ensuring every single guest heard her. “My son is currently across town, finalizing a merger. And I don’t mean a business contract.”
She laughed, a harsh, brittle sound. “He is with Miss Isabella Sterling. A real heiress. A girl with a pedigree, a bank account, and a future.”
The room began to buzz. Isabella Sterling? The daughter of the oil tycoon?
“You see, Maya,” Mrs. Vance continued, her eyes dancing with cruelty. “You were never the destination. You were the placeholder.”
The word hit me like a physical blow. Placeholder.
“Ryan needed a warm body,” she sneered. “He needed someone to do his laundry, cook his meals, and keep his bed warm while he worked his way up the social ladder. He needed to look ‘settled’ to get his promotion. But now? Now he has a shot at the big leagues. And you?”
She reached out with her free hand. Her fingers hooked into the delicate lace of my veil.
“You are just clutter.”
Riiiip.
With a violent jerk, she tore the veil from my head. The comb scraped against my scalp, stinging sharp and hot. My hair, painstakingly styled for hours, tumbled down in a messy cascade.
