Chapter 3
“Sophie?” I whispered, my voice breaking across the silent hall.
I took a step forward. My black work shoes squeaked against the polished wood floor. Every eye in the room was fixed on my uniform.
“Mom, stop,” Sophie said. Her voice wasn't angry. It was utterly defeated.
Arthur stepped in front of her, his tailored suit a sharp contrast to my stained maid’s apron. His face was twisted with the same resentment he’d harbored since Thomas’s funeral.
“You have a lot of nerve showing up here in your work clothes, Margaret,” Arthur spat. “Couldn't even bother to change out of your uniform? Or did you just come to collect the rest of your things before your next shift?”
“Arthur, please,” I begged, ignoring him and trying to look at my daughter. “Sophie, let me explain. I tried to leave. I begged—”
“Then why did you send these?” Sophie interrupted, her voice cracking.
She held out her hand. Resting in her palm were the silver pearl earrings Teresa had loaned me.
My heart stalled.
“I… I didn't send those, sweetie,” I stammered, confused. “Those are Mrs. Moretti's. I left them in my locker.”
“Don't lie to her,” Arthur sneered. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a heavy cream-colored envelope, holding it up for everyone to see. It bore the Moretti family crest.
“A courier delivered this an hour ago,” Arthur announced loudly. “With a note from your employer. Saying you were too busy working overtime to attend, but that you sent these cheap pearls to ‘compensate’ for missing the ceremony.”
The room erupted into shocked whispers.
I felt physically sick. Vanessa. She hadn't just crushed my corsage. She had raided my locker, stolen Teresa’s pearls, and sent them to my daughter to completely destroy any hope of my arrival.
“Sophie, listen to me,” I said, tears spilling down my cheeks. I held up my shaking hands, revealing the crushed, bruised white rosebuds and the torn blue ribbon. “I never chose work over you. Look. Look what I have.”
Sophie’s eyes fell to the ruined corsage.
“She tore it off my uniform,” I sobbed. “Vanessa Bellini. She told me if I left, I’d lose my job. She knew about the medical debt. She knew about the mortgage. And when I tried to fight her, she crushed your flowers.”
Sophie stared at the torn ribbon. FOR MY MOM. SAVE ME A DANCE.
The anger in my daughter’s eyes flickered, replaced by a sudden, terrifying realization.
“You… you kept it?” Sophie whispered.
“I pinned it to my apron,” I cried. “I wore it while I served them, Sophie. Because it was the only piece of you I had today.”
Sophie’s lower lip trembled. She took a step away from Arthur.
“Sophie, don't listen to her,” Arthur grabbed her arm. “She's manipulating you, just like she manipulated Thomas into working himself to death!”
“Let go of her,” a deep voice rumbled.
The entire room turned toward the entrance.
Daniel stood in the doorway, his massive frame blocking the exit. But it wasn't just Daniel.
Stepping out from behind him was David, Sophie’s new husband. He was holding the hand of Lily, his six-year-old daughter from a previous relationship. The little girl was wearing a pale pink dress, clutching a drawing in her other hand.
David walked straight toward me, his face tight with suppressed anger. But he didn't look at me. He looked at Arthur.
“Take your hand off my wife,” David said coldly.
Arthur sneered. “This is family business, boy.”
“She is my family now,” David countered, stepping between Arthur and Sophie. He turned to look at me, and his eyes softened. “Margaret, I'm so sorry. If I had known what that woman did to you…”
David reached into his tuxedo jacket.
“When the courier dropped off the pearls,” David explained, his voice carrying across the silent room, “he didn't just leave an envelope for Sophie. He dropped a second envelope. One that slipped under the gift table.”
My blood ran cold. “What envelope?”
David handed me a folded, legal-looking document. The paper was thick.
“I opened it because it had your name on it,” David said gently. “Margaret… did you know the Moretti estate bought the debt on your mortgage three months ago?”
I stopped breathing.
I unfolded the paper. It was a notice of foreclosure. Signed and authorized by Vanessa Bellini.
But as I stared at the horrific truth, Arthur suddenly lunged forward, snatching the paper from my hands.
“Let me see that!” Arthur demanded. He read it, his eyes widening. Then, he looked at me, and a cruel, triumphant smile spread across his face.
“Well, well,” Arthur laughed, pulling a silver pocket watch from his vest. “It seems you’re not just a terrible mother, Margaret. You’re homeless, too. Which means you can't honor the deal.”
My stomach dropped. “What deal?”
May you like
Arthur held up the silver watch by its chain. It was Thomas’s watch. The one he was wearing when he died. The one that vanished at the hospital.
“The deal Thomas made with me,” Arthur whispered, loud enough for Sophie to hear. “The day before he died.”
