Panic flared in my chest. “Nana, wait! Look at us. I haven’t showered in days. We look like beggars. If we walk into that gala, they’ll humiliate us.”
Evelyn reached over, her manicured hand gently grasping my trembling fingers. It was the first time she had touched me, and the warmth of her grip grounded me.
“Maya, you are a Hart,” she said fiercely. “You do not cower in the shadows while thieves wear your crown. Today, we are not going to a party. We are going to an execution.”
The drive felt like a blur. When we pulled up to the grand, marble-columned entrance of the country club, my heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird. The parking lot was filled with luxury vehicles belonging to our entire extended family, family members who thought my parents were the epitome of success and generosity.
Evelyn stepped out first, demanding a valet take the car. She grabbed my hand, pulled Laya close to my other side, and marched us straight through the grand oak doors. We bypassed the bewildered hostesses and walked directly toward the main ballroom.
Through the glass doors, I could see my mother, Diane, dripping in pearls, laughing loudly with my aunt. My father, Robert, held a crystal glass of champagne, soaking up the attention of the room. They looked perfect. Untouchable.
Evelyn kicked the double doors open. They hit the walls with a thunderous crash that silenced the entire ballroom instantly. The music stopped. Hundreds of eyes turned toward us.
My mother’s glass slipped from her hand, shattering against the marble floor.
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Part 3
The silence in the ballroom was deafening. Every head swiveled toward the entrance, taking in the sight of the impeccable Evelyn Hart flanked by a filthy, trembling mother and a terrified child.
Diane’s face drained of all color, her meticulously applied makeup suddenly looking like a clown’s mask on pale parchment. Robert took a step backward, nearly tripping over a waiter.
