CHAP 2: THE FALLOUT
"You're a monster," Victoria Holloway hissed, her voice trembling with a mixture of rage and terror. She looked around the room, searching for allies among her high-society friends, but everyone avoided her eyes. The same people who had been sucking up to her ten minutes ago were now intensely interested in the view of the vineyards.
"No," I replied softly. "I'm a mother. And I'm a businesswoman. You chose to play a game of status, Victoria. I simply showed you the scoreboard."
"Daniel!" Charlotte cried, grabbing his arm. Her manicured nails dug into his sleeve. "Do something! This is our engagement party! She's ruining our lives!"
Daniel slowly removed her hand from his arm. His face was a mask of quiet disappointment. "She didn't ruin this, Charlotte. You did. I told you my mother was a self-made woman. I told you she worked hard. But you and your mother couldn't wait to look down on her the second you thought she didn't fit your aesthetic."
"We didn't know!" Charlotte screamed, her composure completely shattering. "How were we supposed to know she was the Isabelle Romero? She looks like... like..."
"Like someone who actually works for a living?" I finished for her. "Like the people who clean up after your messes? Let me tell you a secret, Charlotte. The people who clean these floors are worth ten of you. They have dignity. You have nothing but a leased lifestyle."
Richard Holloway took a step back, his phone already in his hand. His fingers were shaking as he tapped the screen, likely checking his banking app or trying to call his financial advisor. When he looked up, the sheer panic in his eyes confirmed he had realized I wasn't bluffing.
"Isabelle," Richard said, his voice cracking. "Please. Let's talk about this privately. We can resolve this. The loan... if you call it in, we lose everything."
"You should have thought about that before you put my mother next to the kitchen door," Daniel said. His voice was steady, filled with a steel I had spent twenty-five years instilling in him.
"Daniel, please!" Charlotte begged, tears finally spilling over her cheeks, ruining her perfect makeup. "I love you! We've planned this for a year!"
"You loved the idea of a Romero heir," Daniel said quietly. "But you hated where he came from. My mother washed dishes to buy my first drawing desk, Charlotte. If you can't respect her, you never respected me."
He walked over to me, stood by my side, and looked at the Holloways. "The party is over."
"Not quite," I said. I turned to Lucas, the young server who was still holding his tray of champagne, his eyes wide. "Lucas, please call building security. Have the Holloway family escorted out. They are no longer welcome on any Pacific Ember property."
"Yes, Ms. Romero," Lucas said, his voice filled with newfound awe. He set his tray down and immediately went to the wall phone.
"You can't do this!" Victoria shrieked as two burly security guards in tailored black suits appeared at the entrance of the penthouse. "We paid for this venue!"
"Actually," I said, retrieving my purse from the side table, "the reservation was made under a corporate account tied to my holding company. You didn't pay a dime. Now, please leave before I have you removed for trespassing."
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As the security guards escorted the crying Charlotte and her pale, silent parents toward the service elevator—the very elevator I had arrived in—the remaining guests stood in stunned silence.
I turned to them. "The bar is still open. Enjoy the champagne. But the wedding is cancelled."
