Chapter 4: The Departure
Without looking back at the crying bride, the ruined reception, or the husband who had traded his spine for social acceptance, I walked down the center aisle of the grand ballroom.
The two hundred guests pressed themselves back against the walls, creating a wide, silent path for me. Nobody spoke. Nobody dared to breathe too loudly. To them, I was no longer the quiet, easily ignored pregnant wife of a mid-level corporate manager; I was a living embodiment of untouchable power, wrapped in a torn pale blue maternity gown.
Arthur Vance and two of his security detail flanked me closely as I pushed open the heavy mahogany doors and stepped out into the opulent hotel lobby.
The cool night air of the city hit my face, carrying the distant sound of traffic and sirens. It felt liberating. For three years, I had suffocated in a cage built of other people's expectations and petty snobbery. Now, the door was wide open.
"Are you alright, Ms. Vance?" Arthur asked quietly as we walked toward the private exit where a sleek black armored SUV was idling with its engine purring.
"I'm fine, Arthur," I murmured, placing a protective hand over my swollen stomach. "Just tired. And ready to go home."
"Your father is waiting at the penthouse. He wanted to make sure you were safe."
"Good."
As Arthur opened the door of the SUV for me, I paused and looked back through the glass facade of the hotel lobby. Through the ornate windows, I could see Dominic standing near the entrance of the ballroom, looking completely lost. He looked like a ghost haunting a graveyard of his own making. He had chosen his family's cruelty over his wife's dignity, and in doing so, he had lost everything that actually mattered.
I climbed into the plush leather interior of the vehicle, and the heavy door thudded shut, sealing out the noise of the outside world.
The SUV glided away from the curb, merging into the glowing river of city traffic.
Inside the quiet cabin, my phone buzzed against my palm. I looked down at the screen. It was a text message from an unknown number—or rather, a number I hadn't saved in years, but knew by heart.
Dad: I ordered soup from your favorite place. It’s waiting for you at home. Take a deep breath, Viv. The trash has been taken out.
May you like
A genuine smile finally touched my lips. I typed back a quick reply: On my way, Dad.
Little did I know, back at the ballroom, Dominic was about to discover that the destruction of his family's social standing was only the very beginning of the storm.
