Chapter 5 - The Glass HouseThe reception was a masterclass in psychological warfare.
While Chloe tried desperately to keep her guests entertained, every major investor, developer, and high-society figure at the party completely ignored the bride and groom. Instead, a long line of powerful executives formed near our table, waiting patiently for a chance to speak with Gabriel and me.
My mother approached our table, holding a glass of wine, her hands shaking so violently the liquid sloshed over the rim.
"Valerie..." my mother whimpered, her voice fake and pleading. "Can I speak to you in private, sweetheart?"
I looked up from my conversation with a prominent Napa winery owner. "You can speak right here, Mom."
"Valerie, please," she whispered, leaning in. "Michael is in tears in the holding room! He says Gabriel is pulling all corporate lines! You're ruining your sister's wedding day! Is this what you wanted? To get revenge on your own family?!"
I set my glass down, looking my mother straight in the eye with a calm, unyielding clarity that made her step back.
"When Michael dumped me in a coffee shop because he said I was too big to fit his image, you told me to be the strong one," I said, my voice smooth as silk. "When I found him sitting in your kitchen laughing with Chloe, you told me not to make a scene."
My mother’s face flushed red with shame.
"I am being the strong one, Mom," I continued softly. "I am standing right here, living my life, taking up as much space as I want. If Michael’s world is falling apart, it’s because he built it on stolen foundation."
Gabriel reached out, his warm fingers weaving through mine under the linen tablecloth, giving my hand a gentle, proud squeeze.
"Your daughter is a visionary, Mrs. Sullivan," Gabriel added coldly. "It's a pity you were too blind to see it. Now, if you'll excuse us, we have a dinner to attend."
My mother stood frozen as Gabriel led me away toward the dance floor.
As the live orchestra began playing a slow, romantic waltz, Gabriel pulled me into his arms. His right hand rested solidly against the curve of my waist, his left holding mine high. We moved across the polished dance floor with effortless, breathtaking grace.
Every eye in the ballroom was on us.
"How do you feel, Valerie?" Gabriel asked, his dark eyes holding mine, his face inches from mine.
"I feel..." I took a long, deep breath, feeling a weight that I had carried for a year melt away into the warm night air. "...free."
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Gabriel smiled—a rare, brilliant, breathtaking smile that lit up his dark features.
"Good," he murmured, pulling me a fraction of an inch closer. "Because the best part is just beginning."
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