My Publicist Mother Called My 8-Year-Old Daughter Useless At My Sister's $400,000 Malibu Wedding — Until Lily Stole The DJ Mic And Broadcasted The Studio Audio
I returned to the table, Lily still absorbed in the tablet, the download complete. The catering manager still hadn’t brought water. The insult of it settled in my bones.
Then, a tall shadow fell over our table. Julian Wright, Chloe’s new husband, stood there, his expensive suit impeccable, a tight smile on his face. He nodded briefly at Lily, then fixed his gaze on me.
“Maya,” he said, his voice quiet, almost a whisper, meant only for me. “Could we speak for a moment in the courtyard? Alone.”
I looked at Lily. She glanced up, then back at the tablet. “Go ahead, Mom,” she said, dismissively.
I stood, my back straight. I followed Julian out of the main reception area, past the sparkling fountain and into a quiet corner of the estate, where the ocean breeze carried the scent of salt. He stopped under a trellis heavy with bougainvillea.
“Look, Maya,” Julian began, his voice devoid of any wedding day cheer. “This is awkward. Unnecessary, actually.”
He pulled a crisp, white envelope from his inner jacket pocket. My name wasn’t on it.
“I understand you’ve had… issues with Eleanor and Chloe,” he continued, pushing the envelope into my hand. His fingers brushed mine, cold. “But today is Chloe’s day. My day. Our day.”
I felt the stiff paper between my fingers. It was clearly a check. My stomach twisted.
“What is this?” I asked, my voice flat.
“It’s fifty thousand dollars,” he said, his eyes scanning the courtyard, checking for eavesdroppers. “A severance, if you will. For any perceived grievances. Call it a clean break.”
My grip tightened on the envelope. Fifty thousand dollars. It was more money than I’d seen in years. More than Eleanor had ever paid me for my ghost-production work.
“I want you to take it,” Julian pressed, his gaze hardening slightly. “And I want you to leave. Now. Before the press photographers arrive for the evening shots.”
He wasn’t asking. He was telling. He wanted me out of California, out of his life, out of the public eye.
“This money,” I said, my voice barely a whisper, “is a bribe.”
He shrugged, unbothered. “It’s a gift. A gesture of goodwill. Consider it an advance on your fresh start, away from… all of this.” He gestured vaguely at the opulent wedding around us.
I looked down at the check. The numbers blurred. Fifty thousand dollars could change everything for Lily and me. A new apartment, maybe a small car. Freedom from constantly worrying about the bills.
But the taste of it was bitter. It was an acknowledgment of Eleanor’s lies, a payoff for my silence. A tacit admission that I was a problem to be solved, not a person to be acknowledged.
Slowly, deliberately, I tore the check in half. The paper made a soft ripping sound. Julian’s eyes widened.
I tore it again, into four jagged pieces. The pieces floated from my hand, landing softly among the crimson petals in a nearby flower box.
Julian stared at the torn paper, then at me. His face was a mask of disbelief and quiet fury.
“I’m not leaving,” I told him, my voice steady. “Not yet.”
More Stories
+ There are no comments
Add yours