I couldn’t breathe. The rage was rising so fast it choked me.
I looked toward the center of the room where a white, throne-like wicker chair had been set up, and there she was. Vanessa. My sister-in-law. She was glowing, radiating that specific brand of smug satisfaction that only she could master. She was holding court, laughing, her hand resting protectively over her baby bump. My brother Jason was hovering nearby, holding a tray of appetizers, looking less like a father-to-be and more like a nervous waiter.
“This house is just perfect for us,” I heard Vanessa say, her voice carrying over the low hum of jazz music. “We really needed the space. You know how it is—expanding the legacy.”
My grip tightened on the champagne bottle until my knuckles turned white. I had walked into a war zone I didn’t know existed, and the casualties were the two people I loved most in the world. The betrayal wasn’t just in the theft of the space. It was in the erasure of their dignity.
I didn’t scream. I wanted to. I wanted to hurl the champagne bottle into the center of the diaper cake and scream until the windows rattled. But years of navigating high-stakes real estate deals and managing difficult clients had taught me one thing. Emotional outbursts get you ignored. Cold, calculated strategy gets you results. I took a deep breath, forcing my heart rate to slow, and stepped fully into the room. I navigated through the sea of pastel dresses, dodging the women who were oohing and aahing over the crown molding I had installed. I made a beeline for my father.
“Dad,” I whispered, coming up beside him.
He jumped, startled, nearly dropping his paper plate. When he saw it was me, a look of profound relief washed over his face, followed immediately by shame. He tried to hide the plate behind his back like a child caught snacking before dinner.
“Georgia,” he said, his voice raspy. “I… I didn’t know you were coming today. I didn’t know there was a party.”
“I didn’t know there was a party,” I repeated, my voice low and dangerous. “Why are you eating in the hallway? Why aren’t you sitting at the table?”
Dad looked down at his shoes, scuffed work boots that looked jarringly out of place against the polished hardwood.
“Oh, well, you know, Vanessa needed the table for the gifts, and the chairs are all taken by her friends. It’s fine, really. I don’t mind standing. Keeps the circulation going.”
He forced a weak smile that broke my heart into a thousand jagged pieces.
“And Mom?” I looked toward the corner. “Why is she squeezed in like a piece of old luggage?”
“She’s just resting,” Dad said, but his eyes wouldn’t meet mine. “Vanessa said the main seating area was for the active guests, you know, the younger crowd. Mom didn’t want to be in the way of the photos.”
In the way. I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned to see Vanessa. She didn’t look happy to see me. She looked annoyed, like I was a stain on a newly cleaned rug.
“Georgia,” she said, her smile tight and not reaching her eyes. “You’re here. We didn’t think you’d make it. Jason said you were busy with some big project in the city.”
“I decided to surprise Mom and Dad,” I said, keeping my face impassive. “Since, you know, this is their house.”
