I personally designed the terms, building in clauses that would expose Patricia’s crimes during the due diligence process.
I set the closing date for one week after our engagement party. My assistant, Jennifer, asked me, “This is personal now, isn’t it?”
I looked at her and said, “She wants to break me. Let’s see who breaks first.”
The engagement party was Patricia’s final masterpiece of cruelty. She invited 400 guests, business associates, high society friends, distant relatives Daniel barely knew.
She deliberately didn’t tell me the dress code, claiming she forgot to send me the invitation details.
When I arrived in my simple cream colored dress, elegant but understated, I immediately realized my mistake.
Every other woman there was in a designer gown dripping with jewelry. Patricia had set me up perfectly.
She forced me to stand at the front of the room during her toast. I stood there feeling all those eyes on me, knowing I looked underdressed, knowing that’s exactly what she wanted.
Patricia’s voice rang out clear and cruel. We must acknowledge the unexpected addition to our family.
She paused, letting the words sink in, letting people laugh. You know, when Daniel first told me he was engaged, I thought surely to someone from our world, someone with the proper background, the right education, the appropriate breeding, she listed everything she found wrong with me.
Each word chosen to cut deeper. Jasmine has no family. My mother was dead. No education from any proper schools, no career worth mentioning, no class, no grace, and frankly, no business being here.
People shifted uncomfortably, but no one spoke up. That’s what money does. It buys silence.
A mother knows a gold digger when she sees one, Patricia concluded. And I’m looking at one right now.
Daniel tried to intervene, standing up from his seat. Patricia held up her hand, silencing him with a look.
She’d trained him his whole life to obey. I found my voice then, surprising myself with how steady it was.
I love your son, I said clearly. That’s all that matters. That’s all that should matter.
Patricia’s face turned red with pure rage. The mask slipped completely. Love? She practically screamed.
You don’t even know what love is, you little leech. You found a meal ticket and you dug your claws in.
She grabbed her wine glass full of expensive red wine and I knew what was coming.
Part of me could have stepped aside, but I stood there, chin up, looking her dead in the eye.
She threw the entire glass directly in my face. The wine hit me like ice water, despite the room being warm.
It soaked through my hair, ran down my face, drenched the front of my dress.
The crystal glass fell from her hand and shattered on the marble floor at my feet, the sound impossibly loud in the shocked silence.
300 people gasped, hands flying to mouths, but no one moved. No one helped. Patricia’s voice dripped with venom as she leaned close to me.
Wine dripping from her own hands now. That’s what I think of you. You’re nothing.
A pathetic failure who trapped my son with probably a fake pregnancy or some other scheme.
You’ll never ever be good enough for this family. You’re garbage and garbage belongs in the street.
Lauren started a slow clap from across the room, mocking me. A few people laughed nervously.
Daniel sat frozen in his chair, his face pale with shock. Kevin started toward me, but Patricia snapped.
“Stay where you are.” He stopped. I stood there for a long moment, feeling the wine drip down my arms, feeling the weight of my mother’s memory, feeling every day of those six months of calculated cruelty.
I didn’t cry. I didn’t yell. My voice came out cold as ice when I finally spoke.
Are you finished? Patricia smiled triumphantly. Get out of my house. I smiled back and something in that smile made her expression flicker with uncertainty.
Interesting choice of words, I said softly. Your house. I let that hang in the air for a moment, watching confusion cross her face.
Then I turned and walked calmly toward the bathroom, glass crunching under my heels. In the bathroom mirror, I looked at myself.
Wine stained, hair ruined, dress destroyed. For just a second, I saw my mother’s face overlaid on mine, and I heard her voice as clearly as if she were standing beside me.
Now, baby, do it now. Show them what you’re made of. I pulled out my phone and texted Jennifer.
Connect me to the venue’s display system. It’s time. When I walked back into that ballroom, every conversation stopped.
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