Chapter 3
I glanced at the expensive lapel pin I had bought him for our fifth wedding anniversary. “Are you sure it’s a meeting?”
Derek sighed, his impatience evident. “Victoria, are you starting this again? I’m working for the future of this family. Don’t make things complicated.”
He leaned down and planted a light kiss on my cheek—a cold, perfunctory kiss—before grabbing his coat and heading for the door.
Half an hour later, Grace and I walked into the opulent ballroom of the Drake Hotel. Crystal chandeliers sparkled overhead, soothing classical music played softly, and hundreds of high-society guests mingled and chatted. I wore a dark blue evening gown, trying to hold my head high, yet Grace’s small hand kept clutching mine tightly.
At eight o’clock, the din in the main hall suddenly subsided, giving way to a ripple of hushed whispers.
I turned around.
Derek had just stepped through the arched doorway. But he wasn’t alone.
Sienna was on his arm. She wore a brilliant red evening gown; her hair fell in soft waves, and she smiled radiantly, like a queen. Derek’s arm rested naturally around her waist, his eyes filled with pride and doting affection—the kind of look he had never once directed at me in the past five years.
He seemed overly confident in the financial trap he had laid. He viewed me as a weak housewife—penniless and powerless—who would never dare cause a scene in front of the city’s most influential figures. He wanted to flaunt his mistress and humiliate me publicly, forcing me to accept my fate.
The entire room seemed to hold its breath. Gazes filled with pity, curiosity, and mockery converged upon me.
My heart pounded wildly, and my breath caught in my throat. A tear threatened to spill from the corner of my eye.
Just then, Grace gave my hand a gentle squeeze. My nine-year-old daughter looked up at me, her small eyes filled with unwavering resolve.
“Mom, don’t cry,” Grace whispered, her voice remarkably steady. “Look at me.”
I looked down at her. The fear within me suddenly vanished, replaced by a burning rage and fierce determination. I was no longer a woman to be pushed around.
I reached into my expensive handbag and pulled out a sealed envelope from the Bennett law firm.
Then I looked at Grace. My daughter smiled and took her smartphone out of her small crossbody bag.
“Let me handle this,” Grace said.
And my daughter began walking straight toward her father, who was standing in the center of the ballroom. No one in the room could have guessed what the nine-year-old girl was holding in her hand.
May you like
The ballroom seemed to freeze with every step Grace took. All eyes shifted from me to Derek, then settled on the child advancing with astonishing confidence.
Derek recognized his daughter. The smile on his face faltered, replaced by a sudden change in expression. His arrogant confidence quickly gave way to confusion. He instinctively let go of Sienna’s waist.
