123 The Sabotaged Celebration’s Sting
123 The Sabotaged Celebration’s Sting
“Deliberately scheduled today?” I asked, though I already knew the answer.
The Shaw family had orchestrated a perfect social slight, leveraging Damien’s influence to draw people away. And Damien–my soon–to–be ex–husband–had allowed it, perhaps even encouraged it.
“Everything alright, dear?” she asked when I approached. “You look concerned.”
“Mr. and Mrs. Lawrence have arrived,” the event coordinator informed me. “Table
three.”
Clara’s knowing gaze saw right through me. “People have other places to be. It’s quite alright.”
“Need a hand?” I offered, tying my robe more securely.
“Look how it catches the light, Grandma,” Mom said diplomatically, moving the vase to
a sunny spot.
Clara’s fingers traced the inlaid initials. “You’ve always noticed the small things, Elara. Unlike some people.” The last part was murmured softly, but I caught it.
Mrs. Lawrence at least had the grace to look embarrassed. “Another engagement, I’m afraid. Please give Clara our best.”
“That’s putting it mildly,” I murmured, thinking of my own fractured marriage.
Chloe frowned. “Not that I’ve heard of. Society calendar was clear except for Clara’s
milestone.”
When my turn came, I handed Clara a slender package wrapped in cream paper. She unwrapped it carefully to reveal a handcrafted wooden writing box with her initials inlaid in mother–of–pearl.
“Great–Grandma, you’re so old today!” Cora announced with childish frankness.
“Coco!” admonished gently.
But as I watched more guests discreetly check their watches, I knew the damage was already done. Clara was too perceptive not to notice, too proud to acknowledge it.
123 The Sabotaged Celebration’s Sting
“She misses Miranda,” Dad said quietly, joining me by the window while Clara showed Cora her collection of antique music boxes. “More than she lets on.”
An awkward silence followed her innocent comparison. Clara’s smile tightened slightly, but she recovered quickly. “Indeed it is. Now, who wants a scone?”
Cora shuffled forward, her expression uncertain. “I forgot to make something,” she admitted, “but I can sing you the birthday song!”
Robert Langley, usually jovial, looked uncomfortable. “Your father was asking about the guest situation.”
Robert cleared his throat. “I didn’t want to say anything, but since Victor asked directly… There’s a housewarming party tonight. At the Shaw estate.”
And as I watched Cora yawn disinterestedly beside Clara, clearly finding her great–grandmother’s celebration tedious compared to the exciting events at the Thorne mansion, I wondered if the damage extended beyond tonight’s party to the very foundations of our family itself.
Next came a large, ostentatious package–Damien’s contribution. Clara unwrapped it with noticeably less enthusiasm, revealing an extravagant crystal vase from a renowned French designer.
The morning of Clara’s birthday dawned with golden sunlight streaming through the curtains. I found my father already in the kitchen, carefully arranging a breakfast tray with Clara’s favorites: freshly baked scones, clotted cream, and strawberry preserves.
“What’s going on?” I asked, sliding into an empty chair.
The pieces fell into place with sickening clarity. The timing was no coincidence. This was a deliberate move to undermine Clara’s celebration–to show where true power in our social circle now lay.
But the exodus continued. By nine o’clock, nearly a third of the confirmed guests had made polite excuses and departed. The remaining crowd was mostly family and Clara’s closest friends–loyal, but noticeably smaller than anticipated.
“Breakfast in bed was Victor’s idea,” Mom explained, adjusting Clara’s pearl earrings.
By evening, we had moved to the Grand Willow Hotel for the formal celebration. Clara looked resplendent in midnight blue silk, greeting her guests with practiced grace. I
123 The Sabotaged Celebration’s Sting
stood nearby, clipboard in hand, ensuring everything ran according to plan.
“Everything’s fine,” I lied smoothly. “Just checking if you need anything.”
“Happy birthday, Grandma,” I said, bending to kiss her cheek.
Dad squeezed my shoulder. “Family is complicated, sweetheart.”
Inside lay a fountain pen of polished rosewood, alongside matching stationery embossed with her monogram.
“I know,” I sighed. “I miss her too, sometimes. The person she used to be, at least.”
Over the next hour, a disturbing pattern emerged. One by one, prominent guests would arrive, offer perfunctory congratulations, present their gifts, and then discreetly slip away. Each cited “another commitment” with remarkable consistency.
Cora’s eyes widened. “That’s even older than Dad’s company!”
“Later, sweetheart. It’s not polite to use phones during a party.”
Dad’s expression was grim. “Tell her what you told me, Robert.”
“Open it,” I–encouraged.
We made our way to Clara’s suite, where Mom was already helping her dress. My grandmother sat regally at her vanity, her silver hair swept into an elegant knot.
I didn’t defend Damien’s choice as I once would have. Some battles weren’t worth
fighting anymore.
“For all those letters you write to your friends,” I explained. “I noticed your old pen was wearing out.”
“Leaving so soon?” I asked, intercepting them near the exit.
As Cora skipped away, I noticed my father in deep conversation with Robert Langley, one of his oldest friends. Their expressions were serious, heads bent close together. Dad’looked up, caught my eye, and gestured for me to join them.
As the morning progressed, I found myself watching Clara closely. Despite being surrounded by family, there was a shadow of loneliness about her that I hadn’t noticed before–or perhaps had simply chosen not to see.
123 The Sabotaged Celebration’s Sting
Elara’s POV.
Clara’s eyes crinkled with delight as we gathered around her. Even Cora, still in her unicorn pajamas, had woken early to join the celebration.
Clara patted my hand. “Thank you, dear. What a lovely surprise.”
I found Clara at her table, surrounded by well–wishers but clearly aware of the dwindling attendance.
The name hit me like a physical blow. Shaw–Vivienne’s maternal family.
I nodded, mentally checking them off my list. The Lawrences had been business associates of my father’s for over thirty years. Their presence was expected.
Clara merely nodded, already turning her attention to Cora. “And what about you, my little one? Just having you here is gift enough.”
Dad’shook his head. “And she won’t–not tonight. This is still her birthday.”
“Victor,” Clara whispered, visibly moved. “I thought this was lost decades ago.”
Her dignified acceptance only made me feel worse. I squeezed her hand before moving away to check on Cora, who was growing restless at the children’s table.
“Found it in a safety deposit box Mom left. Took some detective work,” Dad explained, looking pleased with himself.
“Well, technically breakfast at vanity,” Dad joked, setting down the tray. “But the sentiment stands.”
“Is there some other event tonight I don’t know about?” I asked Chloe when she arrived. “Half the guests are treating this like a drop–by.”
Dad looked up with a smile. “Just finished. Thought we’d start the day right for her.”
“And?” I prompted.
After breakfast, we gathered in the sunroom for the gift exchange. Dad presented Clara with a vintage brooch that had belonged to her mother, carefully restored to its former glory.
“When can I call Dad?” she asked, tugging at my dress. “I want to tell him about the cake.”
123 The Sabotaged Celebration’s Sting
“How… predictable,” she remarked coolly, setting it aside without further comment.
“He’s the guest of honor, from what I’ve heard,” Robert confirmed. “Along with Vivienne- Dubois, of course. The Shaws are treating it as something of an unofficial engagement
celebration.”
What wasn’t expected was their departure barely forty–five minutes later.
But Clara laughed, a sound like wind chimes. “Yes, darling, I am. Eighty–five years old today. Can you imagine?”
Her impromptu performance lifted the mood, though I couldn’t help noticing how Clara’s gaze lingered on the empty chair where Miranda, my estranged sister, should have been sitting. Some absences were impossible to ignore, no matter how festive the
occasion.
Robert nodded reluctantly. “Invitations went out last week. Very exclusive. Everyone who’s anyone in business circles received one.”
The innocent comment stung more than it should have. “Why don’t you go see if Great–Grandma has started opening her presents?” I suggested, redirecting her
attention.
“Let me guess,” Dad said, his voice tight with controlled anger. “Damien Thorne is attending.”
“Does Clara know?” I asked, glancing toward my grandmother. She was smiling as she opened gifts, maintaining perfect poise despite the half–empty room.
Before I could respond, they hurried away.
Cora pouted. “But I miss Auntie Vivi. She would make this party more fun.”
The realization burned like acid in my chest. This wasn’t just about social climbing or petty rivalries. This was a calculated move to publicly diminish my family’s standing— to show that aligning with Damien Thorne and Vivienne Dubois was more beneficial than honoring decades–long relationships with the Vance family.
