Chapter 3 - The Mask Cracks
The air felt electric, smelling of melting candle wax and expensive perfume turned sour by tension.
Three million dollars.
The number bounced around inside my skull like shrapnel. For thirty-six months, I had balanced checkbooks by hand, crying over ten-dollar overdraft fees. I had walked two miles in freezing rain when my car’s alternator died because I couldn't afford the four-hundred-dollar repair bill. I had skipped dinner, claiming I wasn't hungry, just so Mason could have the leftover roast chicken.
And all that time, my father had provided for us. He had loved us enough to ensure we would never struggle.
“A waiver?” I whispered into the microphone, my voice shaking with raw fury. “I never signed a waiver. I never saw a single piece of paper from Dad’s estate.”
David Vance’s expression hardened into granite. “Then it was forged. Which means what took place here is not merely an unfortunate family dispute. It is grand larceny, document fraud, and a felony.”
A shrill scream tore from Brittany’s throat. She spun on Jake, clutching her gown so tightly that several silk seams audibly popped. “You told me your family owned three commercial plazas outright!” she shrieked, her face contorting with rage. “You told me you were an executive partner! You said your sister was a deadbeat living off your mother’s generosity!”
“Brittany, shut up, please!” Jake pleaded, sweating profusely, holding his hands up defensively. “It's complicated! The money was supposed to be mine anyway! Dad always favored Sarah! He gave her everything because she had the kid, and I was left with nothing!”
“You were left with nothing because you gambled away two hundred thousand dollars of his company funds before you turned twenty-five!” David Vance interrupted sharply, his voice booming across the silence. “Arthur told me everything, Jake. He drafted that trust specifically to protect the family assets from your reckless hands. And it seems your mother chose to break the law rather than allow justice to be done.”
Richard Collins, Brittany’s father, abruptly pushed his chair away from the head table. The scrape of wood on stone sounded like a gunshot. He was a ruthless real estate titan whose name was plastered across skyscrapers across the Southeast.
“Richard, darling, wait—” Linda began, hurrying toward him with outstretched hands, trying desperately to salvage the union of fortunes she had plotted for years.
“Don't touch me, Linda,” Richard snarled, his eyes cold and venomous. “My family name will not be associated with thieves, forgers, and pathetic parasites. The wedding contract is void. The prenuptial agreement is canceled. The Collins foundation will not invest a single dime into Jake’s fraudulent ventures.”
He turned to his weeping daughter. “Brittany, take off that dress. We’re leaving.”
“Dad, no! Please!” Brittany sobbed, tears ruining her heavy mascara. “The photos! The society pages! Everyone is watching!”
“Let them watch,” Richard snapped coldly. “They’re watching you make a fool of yourself. Get your coat.”
Guests began standing up in clusters, abandoning their meals and hurriedly gathering their coats. The facade of aristocratic celebration had vanished; nobody wanted to be present when the police inevitably arrived. The high-society crowd that had laughed at my perceived failure just twenty minutes prior were now fleeing in utter embarrassment, whispering furiously into their phones.
Linda dropped into a chair at an abandoned table, burying her face in her manicured hands. Her empire of lies was tumbling around her ears, brick by fraudulent brick.
Jake remained frozen on the dance floor, staring at his shoes, entirely stripped of the arrogance that had carried him through life.
Mason looked up at me, his brown eyes clear and steady. “Did I do the right thing, Mom?”
May you like
I knelt down on the stage, wrapped my arms around him, and buried my face in his neck. “You saved us, baby,” I whispered, tears finally breaking past my eyelashes. “You saved us both.”
***
