At the luxury engagement party for my ex-boyfriend David and his socialite fiancée Chloe, five-year-old Maya refused to touch her mother-to-be.
The hushed murmurs of the ballroom still echoed in my ears. David had just stood there, jaw tight, defying Chloe in front of everyone. My manager, Marcus, had been left stuttering, his face a blotchy red as the socialite heiress bristled beside David. I could feel every eye on me, even as David turned his back, his hand resting gently on Maya’s head.
My apron still smelled faintly of the expensive champagne I hadn’t served and the desperation of a five-year-old child.
I needed to disappear.
I slipped past a flustered busboy, my movements stiff and automatic. The ornate hallway leading to the service area felt like a tunnel, a desperate escape route from the glittering chaos. My heart hammered against my ribs, a trapped bird desperate for open air.
But the silence of the service corridor was a trap itself.
Near the dull metal doors of the staff elevator, a shadow detached itself from the wall. Chloe Kensington. Her gown, a shimmering sheath of emerald silk, seemed to vibrate with controlled fury.
“Trying to sneak out, Anna?” she said, her voice sharp, cutting through the quiet.
Her eyes, usually calculating, now held a wild glint. Her carefully constructed facade had cracked tonight.
“You really thought that pathetic little show would work?” she hissed, stepping closer. The air around her turned cold. “A five-year-old playing crying games? You really are desperate for David’s money, aren’t you?”
My hands balled into fists, hidden in the folds of my apron. The accusation felt like a physical blow.
“I didn’t stage anything,” I managed, my voice thin. “Maya was upset.”
Chloe let out a dismissive laugh, a brittle sound that scraped against my ears.
“Of course she was,” she sneered, running a perfectly manicured hand down her arm. “You’re just another gold-digger who sees David as a meal ticket. It’s a shame. You seemed so… pliable as a catering girl.”
The words stung, igniting a slow burn of anger. I opened my mouth to defend myself, to tell her exactly what I thought of her callous accusations.
But a new voice cut us off.
“I think you’ll find Anna isn’t the one looking for a meal ticket, Chloe.”
A man stepped out from the door of a small banquet office I hadn’t noticed, his presence quiet but authoritative. He was tall, dressed in a charcoal suit, with a weary but steady gaze. His eyes held a knowing sadness as he looked at Chloe.
He walked past Chloe, who stiffened, her jaw clenching. He came directly to me, ignoring her completely. His hand held a single folded sheet of paper.
“Anna Lin?” he asked, his voice calm.
I nodded, my mind racing. Who was this man?
“My name is Julian Montgomery,” he said, pressing the paper into my hand. It was thick, official, printed on heavy stock. “I think David would want you to see this.”
My fingers trembled as I unfolded the document. It was a bank wire transfer receipt, certified. My eyes scanned the details: a date from three months ago. A sender: David Hollister. An amount: $85,000. And a recipient…
“Title Holding Company LLC,” I read aloud, my voice barely a whisper. My breath hitched.
The address of the title company was eerily familiar. It was the same one handling my mother’s foreclosure. The one David knew about. The one that was set to sell her house this week.
My mother’s house was safe. David had paid off her debt. Three months ago. The same week he had ended our relationship.
The paper shook in my hand. Everything I thought I knew, everything I believed about David, twisted into a painful, impossible knot.
More Stories
+ There are no comments
Add yours