Chapter 6 - Truth Over Porcelain Cups
The steam rose lazily between us as Blythe clutched the porcelain mug with both hands, using its warmth to stop the trembling in her fingers. She looked around the living room—at the worn braided rug, the shelves crammed with dog-eared paperbacks, the handmade wooden side tables Nile had built from driftwood.
""My parents raised me to believe that a marriage is a merger,"" Blythe confessed, staring into her tea. ""From the time I was twelve, Laurelai had a blueprint for my life: the right schools, the right charity galas, the right pedigree. When Cullen courted me, he played that part perfectly. He dropped names, talked about private trusts, and took me to places my father approved of. He made me feel like we were conquering Boston together.""
""And the wedding?"" I asked gently, leaning forward in my rocker. ""Why did you agree to exclude me?""
A deep blush burned across her cheeks, and she looked down at the floor, unable to meet my gaze. ""Because Cullen told me you were ashamed of us. He told me that you had become bitter and reclusive after Nile died, that you hated high-society gatherings, and that you specifically asked him not to force you into attending. He said you begged him to keep your name off the invitations because you couldn't handle the crowd.""
I let out a bitter, quiet chuckle. ""He told you that?""
""Yes,"" she sobbed, burying her face in her hands. ""And I believed him because it was convenient! That’s the disgusting truth, Martha. It was easier for me to believe his lie than to question why a loving mother wouldn't want to see her only son get married. Laurelai loved the idea of keeping the guest list small and elite. We manufactured this fairy-tale narrative on social media, complete with that ridiculous cake with your house on top, all while building our lives on a foundation of pure deceit.""
She reached into her purse and pulled out a small, velvet jeweler’s box, placing it gently on the coffee table between us.
""What is that?"" I asked.
""It’s the family heirloom ring Nile gave you on your thirtieth anniversary. Cullen gave it to me as an engagement ring, telling me it was his birthright to pass down."" Blythe’s voice broke into ragged gasps. ""The annulment was finalized yesterday. I don't want his money. I don't want anything from him. But this belongs to you. It was never his to give away.""
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I stared at the velvet box. My heart felt heavy, but for the first time in weeks, the sharp edges of my grief began to soften into understanding. Blythe wasn't the architect of this deception; she was merely another casualty of Cullen’s desperate race to become someone he wasn't.
""Keep the tea warm, Blythe,"" I said softly, reaching out and gently taking the velvet box back into my hands. ""You did the right thing coming here today. More right than Cullen has done in ten years.""
