Chapter 2: The Mask of Fear
Vanessa stood frozen, her face flushing from pale to a deep, embarrassed crimson. The guests were murmuring, pulling out phones, recording the spectacle. But as Mark’s mother slowly pulled off her cleaning cap, her graying hair tumbled down. She wasn't looking at Vanessa with triumph. She was looking at her son with the wide, hollow eyes of someone who had survived a war.
"Mark, no," the woman whispered, her voice trembling. "Don't do this. Not here."
"It's already done, Mom," Mark replied, his eyes never leaving Vanessa.
Vanessa, still clinging to her pride, stepped forward. "You’re acting like a child, Mark! For a maid? A woman who spends her life scrubbing floors? You’re ruining our future over a—"
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"Quiet," Mark commanded.
His mother took a shaky breath. "Vanessa," she said, her voice barely audible over the hum of the air conditioning. "He didn't tear up the certificate because he loves me. He tore it up because he’s finished playing the part. He hasn't stopped the wedding to protect me. He’s stopped it because he’s done with the setup."
