Chapter 2: The Coward’s Choice
The aftermath of the slap was a chaotic blur of whispers and shock. Guests were pulling out their phones, recording, whispering, and debating. Julian, the groom, rushed over, his face pale. Instead of checking on the child, he grabbed Clara’s arm.
"Clara, what are you doing? My mother is a pillar of this community! You’re humiliating us!" Julian pleaded, his voice cracking with the strain of trying to keep his family’s fragile reputation intact.
Clara looked up at him, her expression hardening. She stood slowly, still shielding Lily behind her. "She hit a child, Julian. And you’re worried about the seating chart?"
Eleanor recovered, smoothing her dress, her eyes cold. "She’s a brat, Julian. Just like the woman you married. Get them out of here, or I will ensure you are cut from the trust by midnight."
It was the ultimate threat. Julian, who had been raised on his mother's allowance and threats, wavered. He looked at his mother, then at his bride. In that moment, Clara saw the truth: Julian was never the prince. He was just another servant to his mother’s cruelty.
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"The trust?" Clara asked, her voice calm. "Is that what this is about, Eleanor? Money? Or is it about the documents I found in the safety deposit box in Delaware?"
The color drained from Eleanor's face. The ballroom fell so silent you could hear the ice melting in the glasses. The mention of Delaware—the place where the family’s old offshore accounts were held—hit Eleanor like a physical blow. She realized then that this wedding wasn't an entry point into the family for Clara; it was a Trojan horse.
