Chapter 2: The Ring on the Marble Floor
Chapter 2: The Ring on the Marble Floor
The word police broke the spell holding the guests captive. Murmurs turned into shouting.
"Clara, stop this!" Andrew pleaded, his face turning red with humiliation. "We can talk about this in private. My mother was just stressed. You know how important this wedding is for our family’s reputation! The media is outside!"
"Your family’s reputation?" Clara laughed, a bitter, beautiful sound. "Andrew, look around you. The media isn't outside because of the Whitlock family. They are outside because the anonymous heiress of the Mason-Vane fortune was supposed to reveal herself today. They are waiting for me."
Andrew felt the ground shift beneath his feet. The Mason-Vane fortune was legendary. They owned shipping lines, real estate, and luxury fashion houses. The Whitlocks, while wealthy, were currently drowning in debt due to a bad shipping investment. In fact, Andrew had spent the last month desperately trying to secure a meeting with the CEO of Mason-Vane to beg for a loan extension.
"You..." Andrew stammered, the pieces of the puzzle violently slamming together in his mind. "You are the Vane heiress? The one who controls our family’s bank loans?"
"Yes," Clara said.
Patricia’s breath hitched. She looked at Clara as if seeing a ghost. "No... no, your father was a tailor! I investigated him! He had a small shop in the old district!"
"My father was Richard Mason," Clara said, her eyes flashing with a cold fire that made Patricia step back. "He was a master tailor who chose to live a quiet life after my mother, Elena Vane, passed away. He taught me how to sew. He taught me the value of hard work. Things you and your lazy, entitled son know nothing about. He also left me fifty-one percent of the Vane empire."
Clara reached up to her finger. She looked at the engagement ring Andrew had given her. It was a modest, two-carat diamond. Patricia had spent weeks reminding Clara how "generous" the Whitlocks were for giving a poor girl such a valuable heirloom.
Clara slid the ring off her finger. She didn't hand it to Andrew. She dropped it.
The platinum band hit the marble floor with a sharp, metallic clink and rolled right into the tear of her ruined dress.
"The wedding is off," Clara announced, her voice echoing through the ballroom. "Get out of my venue."
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"Clara, please!" Andrew cried, falling to his knees to grab her hand, but security blocked him. "I love you! I didn't know! I swear if I knew, I would have stopped her!"
"That’s the saddest part, Andrew," Clara whispered, looking down at him with pure pity. "You would have stopped her for my money. Not for me."
