My sister threw red wine across my dress uniform and told me I didn’t belong in that ballroom, my father told security to take me out before I embarrassed his future son-in-law, and I looked at the stain running over my ribbons, checked the countdown on my watch, and said, “You’re right. I don’t,” because in sixty seconds the room was about to learn why I had really come

Jessica stood just two steps away with her arm still extended from the throw while an empty crystal glass dangled loosely between her manicured fingers. Her white silk gown looked like it belonged on the cover of a high-fashion magazine because it was perfectly clean and untouched.

She curled her lips into a sneer as if she had just successfully corrected a disgusting mistake in her personal space. Seriously, she said loud enough for half the ballroom to hear, you could not even bother to change into something appropriate before showing up at my event?

I had not uttered a single word since walking into the gala and taking exactly four steps past the grand entrance. That was all the time it took for the peace to shatter into pieces on the floor.

Preston stepped in beside her while adjusting his expensive cufflinks as if this entire scene were merely a minor inconvenience to his evening. He did not look at me with any sense of family connection but rather viewed me as a problem that should have been handled much earlier.