Two hundred guests turned in their seats at once, and the soft clink of silverware faded into a silence so complete that even the hum of the ballroom speakers felt loud.
Then she delivered it, her voice sweet and cutting as she said, “My little sister couldn’t even keep her legs closed long enough to let me have one perfect day.”
The words spread through the grand ballroom of the Brighton Plaza Hotel in downtown Chicago, bouncing off crystal chandeliers and white linen tables, filling every corner with something sharp and deliberate.
I felt the air leave my lungs slowly as if the entire room tilted beneath my feet, and I struggled to steady myself without drawing attention.
Victoria stood center stage in her custom white gown, champagne glass raised, glowing like the perfect bride while she tore me apart in front of colleagues, childhood friends, extended relatives, and Connor Blake’s entire polished banking circle.
“And since she didn’t think I’d tell you,” Victoria continued smoothly, her smile never slipping, “yes, my little sister is pregnant.”