Chapter 6 - Cruelty Behind Closed Doors
By Tuesday afternoon, the penthouse had transformed into a staging ground for Vanessa’s vanity.
Three of her closest socialite friends—girls with hollow cheeks, designer sunglasses, and trust-fund pedigrees—arrived for a private champagne tasting. They lounged across the white linen couches, their laughter shrill and merciless.
"So, V, did you finally convince him to ban his mother from the bridal suite?" asked a blonde woman named Chloe, swirling a glass of Dom Pérignon. "Every time I see Eleanor Whitmore, she looks like an old museum exhibit. So stiff. So judgmental."
Vanessa waved her hand dismissively, reclining like an empress. "Eleanor won't be allowed within ten feet of the bridal party. I told Daniel my bridal stylist has strict rules about unauthorized guests. She can sit in the third row where she belongs."
"And the dress?" Chloe laughed. "Did you bill it to Daniel's corporate card?"
"Of course," Vanessa smiled, popping a strawberry into her mouth. "Seventy-five thousand dollars. Daniel didn't even blink. He thinks it's a 'symbol of our eternal bond.' Men with mommy issues are so ridiculously easy to manage."
They all burst into laughter.
I stood near the dining buffet, refilling the silver ice bucket. Every muscle in my body screamed to rip off my gray wig, tear away the latex prosthetics, and slap the smirk off her deceitful face. But I forced my feet to remain planted. A burst of anger now would only destroy the trap I was preparing to spring.
"Martha!" Vanessa snapped suddenly, snapping her fingers at me like she was calling a stray dog. "Bring more champagne. And open the vintage bottle on the counter."
"Right away, ma'am," I whispered.
I retrieved the bottle, carefully unwrapping the foil. My hands, intentionally or perhaps subconsciously shaking with adrenaline, fumbled as I popped the cork. A tiny splash of champagne spilled over the marble counter and trickled onto the sleeve of Vanessa’s silk blouse as she brushed past me toward the bar.
It was no more than three drops.
Vanessa froze. Her eyes flared with an unhinged, feral fury.
Before I could speak, she slapped the crystal glass out of my hand. It shattered violently against the marble floor, sparkling shards flying across the kitchen.
"You clumsy, decrepit cow!" she screamed, her face contorting in rage. She shoved me hard against the kitchen island.
The edge of the granite caught my hip with a sharp, bruising jolt.
"Look at what you did to my blouse! Do you know how much this costs? More than you make in six months, you worthless peasant!"
Her friends watched from the living room, smirking and sipping their drinks, completely unbothered by the violence unfolding before them.
"I am so sorry, Miss Vanessa," I said, dropping to my knees among the broken glass, keeping my eyes fixed on the floor so she wouldn't see the burning hatred in my eyes. "It was an accident. I will pay for it."
"You're damn right you'll pay for it," Vanessa hissed, leaning down until her breath touched my ear. "If you ever look at me funny again, I will have the police drag you out of this building in handcuffs. Now clean this mess up on your hands and knees. Every single shard. If I find one piece of glass later, I’ll grind your face into it."
She turned on her heel and walked back to the living room, laughing as Chloe handed her another glass.
Down on the floor, surrounded by jagged shards of crystal, I felt the cool weight of the silver pen in my pocket. The tiny red light was glowing steadily.
May you like
Every word. Every insult. Every violent shove.
It was all recorded.
