Chapter 5 · I Tore The Paper, He Tore His Dignity

Chapter 5

Snow and wind battered the taxi window. I sat in the back seat. My coat, still dusted with grayish-white powder, lay spread out across my lap.

A little while ago, in the hallway, I'd taken it off to cover my mother's ashes.

The taxi pulled up in front of a cheap motel. The room was thick with the smell of moldy cigarettes.

I sat by the wall with peeling paint, stuffing handfuls of powder from my coat into a black sealed bag.

A jagged piece of broken porcelain sliced my palm. Blood dripped in, staining the grayish-white powder.

My palm went numb, but my mind was razor-sharp.

At the sink, I rinsed the blood from between my fingers with cold water.

I changed into a long black dress.

I tucked the sealed bag into the very bottom of my purse.

With my bag in hand, I pushed the door open.

My phone buzzed.

Stella texted me, [Edward is hosting a party at the Grand Hotel tonight to officially acknowledge his bastard son. Don't check your phone, or you'll get worked up. Try to get some sleep.]

The dim glow from my phone lit up the dark hallway.

I typed out a reply: [Got it.]

As I pushed open the door, the wind and snow whipped against my face, stinging with icy pellets.

I flagged down a taxi.

"Grand Hotel," I said.

At eight o'clock in the evening, I arrived at the Grand Hotel. I pushed open a side door, avoiding security, and hid behind the heavy curtains.

The hall was toasty, the air heavy with perfume and booze. The crystal chandeliers blazed with blinding light.

Edward stood at the center of the crowd, dressed in a tailored suit and holding a glass of champagne. His brow was slightly relaxed, but his expression still had that familiar arrogance.

There wasn't a hint of the chaos from earlier on his face.

Vivian clung to his arm, her diamond necklace sparkling and drawing everyone's attention. She raised her chin, basking in the compliments, looking every bit like the perfect hostess.

Through the leather of my purse, my fingers gently rubbed the sealed bag hidden at the bottom. The rough texture scraped against my fingertips.

The moment I touched it, the chaos around me faded away. My heartbeat was unnaturally calm.

The lights in the hall dimmed. A spotlight hit the center of the stage.

Vivian took Henry's hand and walked up, her eyes red and teary. "For the past three years, I've been living abroad with Henry, putting up with all the rumors and all the crap people said about us. I didn't want to mess up Edward's life."

She wiped the corner of her eye, her voice trembling. "Someone's been holding onto a spot that was never theirs. As a mother, all I could do was keep backing down for my child."

Whispers rippled through the crowd.

"I heard that woman kept shamelessly hanging around, refusing to leave."

"She'll never be as rightful as Vivian."

I'd heard those nasty comments more times than I could count over the past four years.

I unzipped the secret compartment in my purse.

I pulled out the paternity test report.

My heels pressed into the thick carpet, silent and steady.

I stepped out from behind the curtains and walked toward the stage under the glare of the lights.

I moved past the front row of VIP seats and ascended the steps.

Vivian was about to speak again.

I strode up and snatched the microphone from her hand. A harsh burst of static cut through the music.

Vivian's eyes went wide in shock, her scream stuck in her throat.

Edward shot to his feet, his champagne glass shaking so hard that champagne splashed all over the tablecloth.

I turned to face everyone down there.

I unfolded the paternity test report in my hand.

"Henry Pierce was born in November, three years ago," I said.

My voice boomed through the speakers, filling the whole hall. "Medically speaking, the conception date matches up with the second year Edward and I were living together."

The hall was utterly silent.

I glanced sideways at Vivian, her lips trembling, her face white as a sheet.

I curled my lips into a smirk. "So much for your so-called devoted waiting. You knew you were the mistress and still went for it. Every bit of it was calculated manipulation."

Chapter 5

Snow and wind battered the taxi window. I sat in the back seat. My coat, still dusted with grayish-white powder, lay spread out across my lap.

A little while ago, in the hallway, I'd taken it off to cover my mother's ashes.

The taxi pulled up in front of a cheap motel. The room was thick with the smell of moldy cigarettes.

I sat by the wall with peeling paint, stuffing handfuls of powder from my coat into a black sealed bag.

A jagged piece of broken porcelain sliced my palm. Blood dripped in, staining the grayish-white powder.

My palm went numb, but my mind was razor-sharp.

At the sink, I rinsed the blood from between my fingers with cold water.

I changed into a long black dress.

I tucked the sealed bag into the very bottom of my purse.

With my bag in hand, I pushed the door open.

My phone buzzed.

Stella texted me, [Edward is hosting a party at the Grand Hotel tonight to officially acknowledge his bastard son. Don't check your phone, or you'll get worked up. Try to get some sleep.]

The dim glow from my phone lit up the dark hallway.

I typed out a reply: [Got it.]

As I pushed open the door, the wind and snow whipped against my face, stinging with icy pellets.

I flagged down a taxi.

"Grand Hotel," I said.

At eight o'clock in the evening, I arrived at the Grand Hotel. I pushed open a side door, avoiding security, and hid behind the heavy curtains.

The hall was toasty, the air heavy with perfume and booze. The crystal chandeliers blazed with blinding light.

Edward stood at the center of the crowd, dressed in a tailored suit and holding a glass of champagne. His brow was slightly relaxed, but his expression still had that familiar arrogance.

There wasn't a hint of the chaos from earlier on his face.

Vivian clung to his arm, her diamond necklace sparkling and drawing everyone's attention. She raised her chin, basking in the compliments, looking every bit like the perfect hostess.

Through the leather of my purse, my fingers gently rubbed the sealed bag hidden at the bottom. The rough texture scraped against my fingertips.

The moment I touched it, the chaos around me faded away. My heartbeat was unnaturally calm.

The lights in the hall dimmed. A spotlight hit the center of the stage.

She wiped the corner of her eye, her voice trembling. "Someone's been holding onto a spot that was never theirs. As a mother, all I could do was keep backing down for my child."

Whispers rippled through the crowd.

"I heard that woman kept shamelessly hanging around, refusing to leave."

"She'll never be as rightful as Vivian."

I'd heard those nasty comments more times than I could count over the past four years.

I unzipped the secret compartment in my purse.

I pulled out the paternity test report.

My heels pressed into the thick carpet, silent and steady.

I stepped out from behind the curtains and walked toward the stage under the glare of the lights.

I moved past the front row of VIP seats and ascended the steps.

Vivian was about to speak again.

I strode up and snatched the microphone from her hand. A harsh burst of static cut through the music.

Vivian's eyes went wide in shock, her scream stuck in her throat.

Edward shot to his feet, his champagne glass shaking so hard that champagne splashed all over the tablecloth.

I turned to face everyone down there.

I unfolded the paternity test report in my hand.

"Henry Pierce was born in November, three years ago," I said.

My voice boomed through the speakers, filling the whole hall. "Medically speaking, the conception date matches up with the second year Edward and I were living together."

The hall was utterly silent.

I glanced sideways at Vivian, her lips trembling, her face white as a sheet.

I curled my lips into a smirk. "So much for your so-called devoted waiting. You knew you were the mistress and still went for it. Every bit of it was calculated manipulation."