Chapter 2 - The Ghost of Mark's Childhood
Diane took three unsteady steps across the room, completely ignoring the shards of crystal crunching beneath the soles of her designer heels. Her manicured hands hovered in the air as if she were reaching for a memory she couldn't quite touch.
"Diane?" Mark snapped, his voice sharp with embarrassment. He shot a nervous glance toward his new in-laws, who were watching with furrowed brows. "Mom, what are you doing? It's just Claire pulling another pathetic stunt."
Diane didn't look at her son. Her eyes remained locked onto Luke and Owen, who were clinging to my skirt, their wide brown eyes blinking at the crowd of staring adults.
"Mark..." Diane breathed, her voice cracking. "Look at their ears. Look at the cleft in the older one’s chin. It’s... it’s you. It’s you when you were four years old at the lake house."
A collective murmur rippled through the eighty guests packed into the ballroom.
Emily’s face tightened. She stepped down from the raised platform, resting both hands protectively over her rounded belly. Her smile had completely vanished, replaced by a defensive scowl. "Excuse me? Mark, who are these children? Why did your ex-wife bring kids to our baby shower?"
"I didn't bring them," I said evenly, standing up to my full height. I placed a gentle hand on each of my sons' heads. "They were with my brother in the lobby. They must have slipped away when he went to the restroom."
"Mommy, that lady broke her cup," Owen whispered, his little finger pointing toward Diane's shattered glass.
"I know, baby. Stay close to me," I murmured.
Mark took an aggressive step toward me, his cheeks flushed crimson. "Get them out of here, Claire. I don't know whose kids you borrowed to try and save face after my toast, but it’s sick. It’s pathetic. We all know you’re barren. You couldn’t conceive for seven years. Did you hire child actors just to embarrass me?"
The room went dead silent. A few women in the back gasped at his cruelty.
Before I could answer, a tall, broad-shouldered man appeared in the doorway. It was my older brother, David. He looked out of breath, his jacket unbuttoned.
"Sorry, Claire, Luke saw your car from the window and bolted—" David stopped mid-sentence as he took in the scene: the broken glass, Diane staring like she’d seen a ghost, and Mark standing over me with clenched fists.
David’s posture shifted instantly. He moved between Mark and me, towering over my ex-husband. "Back up, Mark. Right now."
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"David?" Mark scoffed, though he took a cautious half-step back. "Tell your sister to take her rented circus and leave my private party. We were celebrating my first child."
"Rented?" David let out a dark, bitter laugh that echoed off the vaulted ceiling. "You arrogant bastard. You really have no idea, do you?"
