Chapter 2 - The Foundation of Lies
The Whitmores prided themselves,
on their lineage,
their heritage,
and the invisible wall,
they built around their social status.
To them,
money was a weapon,
and they used it to measure,
the worth of everyone they met.
When Daniel met Emily,
he saw a "seamstress,"
a girl who designed her own clothes,
and lived in a small apartment,
on the edge of the city.
He didn't know that the apartment building,
belonged to a trust,
under Emily's name.
He didn't know that the "simple" life she led,
was a choice,
not a necessity.
Emily had wanted to be loved,
for her heart,
for her mind,
and for the quiet strength,
she carried in her soul.
I had warned her,
that the Whitmores were built on sand,
clinging to a status,
that they could no longer afford.
Margaret’s silver gown was rented,
though she would never admit it.
Daniel’s company,
the one he bragged about at every dinner party,
was drowning in debt,
bleeding cash,
and desperate for an infusion.
They had chosen Emily,
not because they loved her,
but because they thought her family,
would be easy to manipulate.
They expected a dowry,
they expected us to be grateful,
to be part of their "illustrious" circle.
When they realized we weren't offering millions,
up front,
their masks began to slip.
The plain dress became a target.
The quiet wedding became an embarrassment.
The uniform in the box,
was Margaret’s way,
of asserting dominance,
over a girl she thought she had already conquered.
As I walked toward the head table,
the guests began to murmur.
Margaret straightened her back,
her eyes narrowing,
as she prepared to dismiss me.
"Is there a problem,
dear?"
she asked,
the word 'dear' sounding like a slur.
"We’re just having a bit of fun,"
she added,
waving her hand at the maid's outfit.
I looked at the uniform,
then I looked at Emily.
"Emily,"
I said,
reaching out to take the gray fabric,
from her hands.
"You don't have to hold this."
Daniel laughed,
a dry,
unpleasant sound.
"Don't be so sensitive,"
he said,
putting his glass down.
"It’s a joke about her being a homemaker."
"We all know she’s not used to luxury,"
he continued,
looking around at his friends for approval.
I dropped the uniform onto the floor,
the gray cloth pooling,
like a shadow on the ivory rug.
"Luxury is something you haven't seen in years,
Daniel,"
I said,
my voice ringing out clearly.
"Everything in this room,"
"the flowers,"
"the champagne,"
"even the suit you’re wearing,"
"was paid for by the family,
you’ve spent the night insulting."
Margaret’s face went pale,
the color draining,
leaving her looking old and brittle.
"Don't be absurd,"
she snapped.
"My son paid for this wedding."
I pulled a folder,
from the small bag I had kept at the table.
"Actually,"
I said,
tossing a stack of invoices,
onto the table in front of her.
"Your son’s credit cards were declined,
six months ago."
"This ballroom is owned by Vance Holdings."
"The catering is provided by a subsidiary of my firm."
"The Whitmore name,"
"is currently a liability,
not an asset."
The room fell into a silence,
so absolute,
that you could hear the hum of the air conditioning.
Emily looked at me,
her eyes widening,
May you like
as the secret we had kept for her sake,
was finally laid bare.
