“My parents,” I said, projecting my voice clearly, “were promised seats in the front row today. They are the reason I am the woman standing before you. Instead, when I went to find them a few minutes ago, I discovered they had been hidden behind a marble pillar near the kitchen, forced to sit on plastic folding chairs.”
The silence shattered. A wave of frantic whispering swept through the ballroom like wind through dry grass. Heads swiveled, craning to look toward the back of the room.
Margaret stood up abruptly, the velvet ropes trembling against her knees. “This is a misunderstanding!” she called out, her voice shrill, the aristocratic veneer cracking. “Eleanor, dear, the stress of the day has clearly overwhelmed you.”
I locked eyes with her. “Then explain it, Margaret. Explain the misunderstanding.”
Her jaw tightened so hard I thought her teeth might shatter. “This is not the time or the place for a family squabble.”
“Oh,” I said, a dark, genuine smile touching my lips for the first time that day. “I think it is exactly the time. And it is definitely the place.”
Harrison lunged up the steps, his face pale, his eyes wide with a mixture of fury and terror. He grabbed my upper arm, his fingers digging into my skin.
“You’re embarrassing yourself,” he growled into my ear. “You’re acting like trash. Stop this.”
I looked at him closely. I looked at the polished smile, the perfect confidence, the man who had once praised my ambition, only to spend the last two years systematically trying to grind it down into obedience.
“Am I?” I asked, pulling my arm out of his grasp.
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