The vibration of my father’s final words still lingered against my ear, but the chaotic noise of the grand ballroom quickly drowned out everything else. Eleanor was still ranting, her voice rising like a screeching alarm as she demanded that the venue manager call local law enforcement immediately.
"We need police down here right now!" Eleanor shrieked, waving her manicured hands in the air. "We have a common thief standing right in the middle of a multi-million-dollar reception! Look at her—she’s probably been planning this for months, preying on our family’s generosity!" Around us, the crowd of two hundred guests muttered among themselves. Some were whispering in shock, casting pitying glances at my torn dress and my swollen, eight-month-pregnant belly. Others, particularly those from Chloe’s high-society circle, nodded in agreement, completely buying into the narrative that a woman in simple clothes must inherently be a criminal. Chloe stood triumphantly over my scattered belongings on the polished marble floor. She kicked my prenatal vitamins aside with the toe of her designer heel, her expression dripping with cruel satisfaction.
"I told you all she was dead weight," Chloe announced loudly to the room, making sure everyone heard her. "And look at my brother. Dominic has been blind, absolutely blind, trying to protect her dignity when she had none to begin with. Dominic, tell them. Tell them you’re divorcing her tonight."
All eyes shifted to my husband.
Dominic finally stirred from his spot near the pillar. He ran a hand through his perfectly styled hair, looking deeply inconvenienced rather than horrified by what had just transpired. He didn't look at my torn dress. He didn't look at the raw red marks on my arm where Chloe had grabbed me. He looked only at the social wreckage of his sister's wedding day and decided where his loyalty lay.