Chapter 6 - A Confrontation Over Rehearsal Dinner
The Stanton residence in Society Hill was a fortress of federalist architecture and old money. Chandeliers blazed through twenty-foot arched windows, and valet drivers in burgundy vests were maneuvering luxury sedans along the cobblestone street.
I walked through the heavy front doors without changing out of my rumpled clothes. The marble foyer was filled with the low hum of high-society conversation, the clinking of crystal flutes, and the rich scent of dry-aged beef.
"Evan! There you are!" Senator Richard Stanton boomed, stepping forward from a circle of wealthy donors. He was a silver-haired man with the practiced smile of a seasoned politician. "We were beginning to think Noelle had scared you off with her seating charts. Come over here, the state treasurer wants to hear about the museum expansion."
Before I could answer, Noelle appeared at her father's elbow. She was dressed in a breathtaking ivory silk dress, her makeup flawless, but the tension around her jaw could have cut glass.
"Father, give us a moment," she said smoothly, taking my arm with a grip that felt like a steel clamp. She dragged me through the French doors into her father's private mahogany-paneled library and slammed the doors shut.
"Are you insane?" she hissed, turning on me the second the latch clicked. "You look like you slept on a subway grate! Guests are arriving, the governor is in the dining room, and you're walking around looking like a vagrant! Did you deal with that pathetic woman?"
"Her name is Rachel," I said, standing in the center of the room, my voice eerily calm. "And the children are mine, Noelle."
She rolled her eyes, scoffing with exaggerated exasperation. "Oh, please! Evan, you are thirty-three years old, stop being so monumentally naive! A woman from your past pops up with three kids right before you marry into one of the most powerful families in the state, and you immediately fall for the oldest paternity scam in the book? She wants money! She saw the society pages, realized you were about to hit the jackpot, and decided to cash in!"
"She didn't ask for a dime," I said. "In fact, she showed me the fifty-thousand-dollar check I supposedly sent her four years ago."
Noelle’s breath hitched. For a fraction of a second, the mask slipped, revealing the terrified, calculating predator underneath.
"I don't know what garbage she fabricated," Noelle said, her voice dropping an octave, "but if you think you're blowing up this wedding over some fabricated fairy tale, you are sorely mistaken. Think about your firm, Evan. Think about who gave you those municipal contracts. My father can make one phone call, and your architectural license will be under state review before sunrise."
"You really think you're untouchable, don't you?" I asked, stepping closer to her.
"I think I am a realist," she sneered, leaning in until I could smell her expensive floral perfume—the same sickly-sweet scent that had lingered on the envelope of Rachel's forged breakup letter four years ago. "I built this life for us, Evan. I took a broken, miserable man who couldn't even look at himself in the mirror and turned him into a partner at a premier firm. You owe me everything. You are going to go upstairs, put on your tuxedo, walk out into that dining room, and smile for the press. And tomorrow morning, my lawyers will have that woman and her three brats served with a restraining order that will keep them out of this state forever."
May you like
I looked at the woman I had almost spent my life with. There was no grief left in me, no disappointment, only a cold, crystalline sense of purpose.
"You're right about one thing, Noelle," I said quietly, turning toward the library doors. "The lawyers are definitely going to be busy tomorrow."
