Heather's hand shook as she parked her car outside the Remington estate. The columns and lawn felt colder than ever—this place had never been her home, not really, even though she'd grown up here. It felt more like a gilded prison than home.
She stared at her reflection in the rearview mirror. Her eyes were red and puffy—anyone could tell she'd been crying. Heather let out a quiet sigh, climbed out, and started toward the house.
At the steps, her stepmother Evelyn was chatting and laughing with a few guests of the evening. The instant Evelyn spotted her, the smile froze. A twitch of disgust curled her lips.
"This stupid girl is the last person I want to see." Her stepmother said on irritation.
"Oh, good," Evelyn said loud enough for everyone to hear. "Here comes… her." She gave a harsh, hyena-like laugh. "Some people just don't belong."
Heather swallowed and met Evelyn's eyes for a moment, then looked away. She passed without a word.
"No manners, as always," one of the guest murmured, folding her arms.
Heather ignored her and walked into the entry hall. Her heel caught on the edge of the carpet. She stumbled forward, flinging out an arm to grab a side table. She grabbed onto a nearby table to steady herself, but not before knocking over a tray of hors d'oeuvres.
The entire room went silent. Silver platters clanged to the floor. Guests froze, forks halfway to their mouths. All eyes turned to her. Including him.
Caius stared at his wife with a frown, and like everyone there, he just stared at her. She dared to glance at him, hoping he would show mercy and come to her rescue, but he did none of that. A few guests stifled laughs, and Heather's cheeks burned with embarrassment.
Her father, Mr. Lionel, hurried over. His brow knotted with worry and irritation. "Heather, what happened? Why are you late?"
She opened her mouth, but the lie died on her tongue. She didn't want to tell him she had been crying in Caius's office. "I-I... I-I was..." Heather stuttered, unable to come up with a convincing lie.
"And why didn't you come with Caius?" her father interrupted, his eyes narrowing.
Before she could answer, Caius's voice cut through the tension. "I didn't want you to find out like this," he said, stepping forward. "We're getting a divorce."
The room fell silent again, the weight of his words hanging in the room. Her father's face went pale. "A divorce? Before I even get grandchildren?" he exclaimed. "What happened?"
"Things aren't working out," Caius said, hair perfectly in place, coat draped over one arm.
Her father opened his mouth, then closed it, searching for words.
"Give her another chance," he finally managed. "She's stubborn, but—"
Caius shook his head, slow and final.
"No one else will want her. Anyone who does will only give her a ring to buy her and steal it later."
Caius shaked his head.
Laughter erupted from the guests. And through it all, Lauren's tinkling laugh rang the loudest in her ears—just like their mother's.
Heather felt like vanishing. But she couldn't do anything about it.
Heather's legs wobbled. Humiliation seeped into her bones. She blinked hard, trying not to cry again. But her throat tightened. She tried laughing along with them, even though she didn't find humor in what her father said.