124 A Birthday Betrayal Unfolds
“You okay?” she asked quietly.
As the waiter walked away, Dad turned to me. “No, we don’t tell her. Not tonight. Let’s salvage what we can of this evening.”
“And that’s precisely why we won’t give them the satisfaction of seeing us affected,” Clara said firmly. “Now, I believe we were about to cut the cake?”
I found Cora at the dessert table, piling her plate with more cake than she could possibly eat.
Her innocent observation stung. “It’s getting late. People have to go home.”
As Julian turned away to join Clara and my father, I found myself wondering what–or who–could possibly counter the social coup Damien had engineered tonight. The Shaw celebration was clearly designed to establish a new social order, with Damien and Vivienne at its center.
Elara’s POV
Dad nodded stiffly. “Thank you.”
Her directness was startling but oddly refreshing.
I sat, taking her hand in mine. “Grandma, I’m so sorry about this.”
“Of course it would,” Dad muttered. “Makes the statement even clearer, doesn’t it?”
“Everything alright?” I asked.
Before Dad could answer, one of the waiters approached our table.
“Thank you, Julian,” Clara said warmly. “And please, both of you, sit down. I assume you have news to share?”
“Mr. Vance, Mrs. Thompson and the Wilsons are leaving. They asked me to convey their applogies.”
“What does that mean?” I asked, suddenly alert.
“This isn’t about you, you know,” she said. “This is Damien trying to flex his muscles-
124 A Birthday Betrayal Unfolds
showing everyone that he controls the social hierarchy now.”
“Coco, that’s enough sweets for tonight,” I said, gently taking the plate from her.
Clara’s laugh–held no bitterness. “Perfect is for fairy tales, Elara. I’m eighty–five years old. Do you think this is the first social slight I’ve weathered?”
“None of that now,” she said firmly. “This isn’t the first time the Dubois family has attempted to undermine us, nor will it be the last. But we endure, Elara. We always
endure.”
As the evening wound down, I found myself standing near the windows, watching as
my waist. the last guests departed. Chloe joined me, slipping an arm around
Dad rubbed his forehead, a gesture I recognized as his attempt to contain anger. “This goes beyond poor manners. This is a calculated insult.”
“I know,” I replied. “But it hurts Clara, which means it hurts me.”
So Damien had told her about the Shaw event. Of course he had.
I nodded, a cold feeling settling in my stomach. “The timing is too perfect to be coincidental.”
Clara straightened in her chair, her posture suddenly regal, “Absolutely not. The Vances do not retreat. Those who’ve chosen to stay–those are the people who matter. We’ll continue as planned.”
I shot Dad an alarmed look, but he gave a small shrug.
She waved away my apology. “For what? That the Shaws and Dubois family have no shame? That your husband-” she paused, correcting herself, “-soon–to–be ex–husband uses his influence for petty vendettas? None of that is your doing.”
Chloe sighed. “Men like Damien don’t think about collateral damage. They only see targets and victories.”
“She’s noticed,” I said softly. “She’s not saying anything, but she knows.”
Walking through the half–empty hall felt like navigating a battlefield after retreat. Small clusters of guests remained, their conversations hushed, as though the very air had been sucked out of the celebration.
124 A Birthday Betrayal Unfolds
“They deliberately scheduled it tonight,” he said through gritted teeth. “Knowing full well it was Mother’s 85th birthday.”
“By which she means she drove past the Shaw estate on her way here,” Julian explained, bending to kiss Clara’s cheek. “Happy birthday, Mrs. Bellweather. You look radiant as always.”
“Should we tell her outright?” I asked.
“Can I go home too?” she asked hopefully. “Maybe Dad can pick me up!”
He looked up, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Just got an interesting text. Very interesting, actually.”
He gave me a cryptic smile. “It means I’ll bring someone in to help… You’ll see later.”
Robert Langley shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “If it helps, quite a few people expressed regret about–leaving early. The Shaw invitation apparently specified that arriving after ten would be… frowned upon.”
Perhaps the game wasn’t over yet. Perhaps it was just beginning.
“There you are, Elara,” Clara said as I approached. “I was just telling your father not to worry about our dwindling guest list.”
“Loyalty is always in short supply among the social climbing set,” Clara observed dryly. “The worst part,”. Chloe continued, her voice rising with indignation, “is that people are still arriving! Half of Boston’s elite showing up to a last–minute housewarming rather than honoring their RSVP to the birthday of one of the city’s most respected matriarchs.”
Dad followed my gaze. “Mother has always been perceptive. Nothing gets past her.” “Care to share with the class?” Chloe prompted.
Before I could ask, the doors to the hall opened, and Chloe burst in, her expression thunderous. Julian followed close behind, looking equally grim.
There was something in her tone–a hint of old pain–that made me wonder what history lay between our families that I didn’t know about.
Her strength was humbling. I squeezed her hand, wordlessly apologizing for the tears
124 A Birthday Betrayal Unfolds.
threatening to spill.
I nodded, absorbing the blow. Even knowing what Damien was capable of, part of me had hoped he wouldn’t actually attend–that he would draw some line at deliberately humiliating Clara on her birthday.
Victor Vance’s face turned ashen as more details about the Shaw party emerged. His hands clenched the edge of the table, knuckles white with strain.
Clara smiled. “Hello to you too, Chloe dear. I’m so glad you could make it.”
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.
Julian pocketed his phone. “Not yet. But I have a feeling the Shaws‘ victory celebration might be short–lived.”
The eagerness in her voice was like a knife to my heart. I knelt down to her level, forcing a smile. “Not tonight, sweetheart. You’re staying with me at Grandpa’s house, remember? It’s Great–Grandma’s special day.”
“And Damien?” I couldn’t help asking, hating the way my voice caught on his name.
I stood up, smoothing down my dress. “I should check on Cora.”
Clara patted the seat beside her. “Sit down, dear. No need to hover like I might break.” “Maybe another time,” I said, struggling to keep my voice steady.
Julian approached us, his phone in hand. He had a curious expression on his face–part surprise, part satisfaction.
Cora’s face fell. “But Dad said there would be fireworks at the party tonight.” Chloe had the grace to look momentarily chastened. “Mrs. Bellweather, happy birthday. I’m sorry I’m late–I was gathering intelligence.”
But something in Julian’s confident smile gave me pause. For the first time that evening, I felt a flicker of hope.
“Have you heard?” Chloe demanded, not bothering with pleasantries as she reached our table. “The absolute nerve of those people!”
Chloe didn’t need to be asked twice. She dropped into a chair, her designer handbag landing with a thud. “It’s worse than we thought. The Shaws have transformed their
entire estate into some bizarre winter wonderland. Lights everywhere, valet parking, champagne fountains–the works.”
“Still, it’s your birthday,” I insisted. “It should have been perfect.”
She pouted. “But I’m bored! Everyone’s leaving.”
+155
Her calm dignity silenced our protests. The cake ceremony proceeded with fewer guests than anticipated, but those who remained sang with genuine affection. Clara blew out her candles with a wish she declined to share, though the determined gleam in her eye suggested it might involve some form of retribution.
I glanced across the room to where Clara sat, still opening gifts with a gracious smile. Despite the thinning crowd, she maintained her poise, thanking each gift–giver as though they were the most important person in the room.
Dad cleared his throat. “We could make an announcement, Mother. Say you’re feeling unwell. End the evening with dignity rather than watching this slow exodus.”
Julian’s expression softened with sympathy. “He arrived about an hour ago. With
Vivienne.”
“Mother figured it out,” he said simply.
When I returned to my father, he was speaking with Clara. Her expression was serene, but I could see the knowing look in her eyes.
