Chapter 2 - The Mask Slips Off
Sophie buried her face deeper into my neck, her small hands clutching the straps of my dress with white-knuckle terror. I could feel every shallow breath she took. My heart pounded with an ancient, primal maternal fury, but my external demeanor remained frozen in absolute composure. I had learned early in life that showing anger to my family was merely giving them fuel to call me irrational, bitter, and jealous.
""Isabel, did you hear your father?"" Eleanor snapped, waving her diamond-encrusted hand toward the rear pathway that led to the service quarters and minor guest cottages. ""Take Sophie away from the main pavilion. Look at Victoria—she is hyperventilating! The photographers from the lifestyle magazine are arriving for the first dance in ten minutes! We cannot have a screaming child making a spectacle of this family!""
""A spectacle?"" I asked, my voice ringing clear across the silent courtyard. Several guests at the outer perimeter shifted uncomfortably. ""Your daughter just committed battery against a child. If anyone is making a spectacle, it is the grown woman who threw a violent tantrum over fabric.""
Victoria let out a loud, mocking laugh that sounded bordering on manic. ""Fabric? That gown costs more than your entire annual wardrobe, Isabel! You’ve always been jealous! From the moment Logan proposed to me on that yacht in Monaco, you’ve been looking for a way to cast a shadow over my happiness! You’re a bitter, divorced single mother who can’t stand seeing someone else live a fairy tale!""
A ripple of low murmurings rolled through the guests. Victoria looked around, feeding on the audience, clearly believing she had successfully painted me as the bitter sister seeking sabotage. She stepped closer, her chin held high, pointing an accusatory French-manicured finger directly at Sophie.
""You brought her out here specifically to disrupt my photos! You know she has no discipline! You think because you work in some boring corporate cubicle that you understand high society? You don't belong here, Isabel. You never have. Logan’s family built empires. My family built status. You just sit behind a desk and count pennies while the rest of us live extraordinary lives.""
My father nodded in agreement, taking a slow sip of his scotch. ""Listen to your sister, Isabel. We put up with your moody attitude because you are family, but tonight is not about you. Logan’s business associates are here. Major investors are in that crowd. You are embarrassing us. Apologize to Victoria, take your daughter to the room, and let the professionals fix this dress.""
I turned my head slightly to look at Logan. The golden boy. The brilliant tech entrepreneur who drove imported sports cars, wore bespoke Italian suits, and was praised by my parents at every holiday dinner as the pinnacle of masculine success. He was the man my father constantly compared my ex-husband to, the man my mother openly bragged about at her country club brunches.
Logan was standing rigidly by the edge of the bar. His glass of water trembled slightly in his hand. He wasn't looking at Victoria’s dress. He was looking directly into my eyes, and for the first time that evening, I saw raw, unadulterated terror beneath his handsome facade. He knew exactly what cards I held. He knew what was written on the private contracts stored on the secure server of my phone.
""Logan,"" I said calmly, projecting my voice across the terrace. ""Do you have anything to say about this?""
Logan swallowed hard. His throat bobbed. He glanced nervously at my father, then at Victoria, who was now glaring at him, expecting her fierce protector to step in and humiliate me further.
""Come on, Logan!"" Victoria demanded, stomping her satin heel. ""Tell her! Tell her how much this evening means to our future! Tell her to get her disruptive child out of our sight before I have security throw them both into the ocean!""
Logan took a hesitant half-step forward. He opened his mouth, but only a strained, dry cough came out. ""Victoria... maybe... maybe we should just let Isabel take Sophie inside to rest. She’s just a kid, and—""
""Are you taking her side?!"" Victoria’s eyes widened in theatrical disbelief. ""She ruined my thousand-dollar silk! She ruined our entrance! You spent two million dollars on this island rental so we could have the royal wedding of the century, and you’re going to let my pathetic sister walk all over us?""
""Actually,"" I said, my voice cutting through her tirade like a chilled blade. ""Logan didn't spend two million dollars on this island.""
The courtyard went completely dead. Even the breeze seemed to die down against the cliffside. Victoria blinked, her lips parted in confusion. Eleanor stopped wiping the wine stain, freezing in mid-motion.
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""What did you just say?"" Victoria asked, her voice dropping into a sneer. ""Logan’s company is valued at fifty million dollars. He paid for every single leaf on this island. He chartered the private jets. He booked the five-star catering. He bought the fireworks waiting on the barge in the bay.""
I adjusted Sophie in my arms, kissing her damp forehead gently. ""No, Victoria. He didn't.""
