Chapter 3 - THE DESCENT OF THE ASHFORDS
I walked back into the ballroom,
but I didn't go to the family table.
I didn't go to the front of the room where the cameras were waiting.
I walked straight to Table Twelve,
beside the swinging kitchen doors.
I sat down on the lonely chair,
next to the two young photographers' assistants.
They looked at me with wide eyes,
their cameras resting on their laps.
“Rough night?”
one of them whispered.
“Just getting started,”
I replied,
smoothing the silk of my navy dress.
A few minutes later,
I saw Nathan approaching.
He was moving fast,
his face a mask of confusion and suppressed rage.
He stopped in front of Table Twelve,
looming over me as if he still had the power to intimidate.
“Madison,
what the hell was that?”
he hissed,
leaning down so only I could hear.
“Who was that waiter?”
“And what documents are you signing?”
I didn't look up at him.
I picked up a piece of bread from the basket and broke it slowly.
“He’s the staff lead,
Nathan.”
“And the documents are for the venue.”
“The owner needs my approval before the wedding can proceed.”
Nathan let out a sharp,
unbelieving laugh.
“The owner?”
“Madison,
you work for a nonprofit that gives away used clothes.”
“You don't own venues like this.”
“You can't even afford the shoes you're wearing without my credit card.”
I looked him in the eye then,
and I saw the emptiness in his soul.
“I haven't used your credit card in six months,
Nathan.”
“Check your statements.”
He blinked,
his brain clearly struggling to catch up.
“Then how did you pay for—”
“The waiter called me Ms. Brooks,”
I interrupted.
“Did you notice that?”
“He called me by my name.”
“The name you were so ashamed of.”
Before he could respond,
Vivian and Sloane arrived,
trailing a cloud of expensive perfume and indignation.
“Nathan,
what is taking so long?”
Vivian demanded.
“The guests are whispering.”
“They say there’s a problem with the contract.”
She looked down at me,
her lip curling in disgust.
“Madison,
stop this nonsense at once.”
“Go to the office and tell them whatever they need to hear.”
“We have a reputation to maintain.”
I stood up then,
slowly,
until I was eye-level with the woman who had spent two years trying to make me feel small.
“You're right,
Vivian,”
I said.
May you like
“Reputation is everything.”
“And yours is about to take a very expensive hit.”
