And next to him sat Peyton, wearing a flowing, empire-waist dress, her hand resting delicately over a stomach that I now knew was filled with nothing but saline and lies.
Eleanor stood up, her napkin fluttering to the floor. “Lauren. What is the meaning of this? You are explicitly not welcome in this house.”
I didn’t blink. I didn’t shout. I simply walked toward the head of the table, the silence in the room so absolute it was deafening.
“I won’t be staying for dinner, Eleanor,” I said, my voice carrying clearly across the room. “I just came to deliver a few gifts for the happy couple.”
I reached into my bag, my fingers brushing against the cold, hard reality of the documents waiting inside. I pulled out the first envelope, preparing to detonate the bomb that would level their entire empire.
David shot out of his chair, his face pale. “Lauren, stop. Don’t do this here.”
“Oh,” I smiled, the expression sharp enough to draw blood. “I think this is exactly the place to do it.”
And then, I tossed the stack of papers directly into the center of Eleanor’s pristine dining table.
The thick manila envelope hit the polished mahogany with a heavy, satisfying smack, sliding perfectly into the center of Eleanor’s elaborate floral arrangement.
No one breathed. The twenty pairs of eyes in the room darted from the envelope to my face, waiting for the explosion.
Eleanor’s lips thinned into a pale, furious line. “I will not have my family humiliated by a bitter, unfaithful woman. Security will escort you out, Lauren.”
“Before you call security, Eleanor,” I said, my voice as calm as a frozen lake, “you might want to see what your son has been up to. Unless, of course, you enjoy funding his mistress’s prosthetic accessories.
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