The ripping sound of silk echoed across the grand ballroom of the Ashford estate in Beverly Hills, and it was loud enough to silence the string quartet mid melody. It was not just fabric tearing, it felt like my dignity being shredded in front of fifty well dressed guests who thrived on gossip and cruelty.
Cold night air brushed against my bare skin as I stood frozen, my emerald gown reduced to useless strips in the hands of my mother in law, Vivian Ashford. My arms crossed desperately over my chest, trying to shield myself while flashes from phones and cruel laughter surrounded me.
“Look at her,” Vivian shouted, lifting the torn dress high like a trophy. “This is how desperate girls hide stolen diamonds, tucked in their underwear like common thieves.”
My sister in law, Tiffany Ashford, smirked and pointed at me as whispers spread like wildfire. I trembled from shock and humiliation while tears streamed down my face, and I searched the room for my husband, William Ashford, the man who once promised to protect me from anything.