Chapter 3 - The Velvet Cage
Victoria Sterling was not just the chairwoman of the Savannah Historical Preservation Society; she was the daughter of Senator Arthur Sterling and the undisputed queen of Savannah’s old-money elite. More importantly, as Delaney would quickly learn from the café gossips, Victoria had been Rachel Ward’s best friend—and had spent the last two years quietly waiting for Beckett to finish mourning his dead wife.
"I didn't realize you were entertaining... staff," Victoria said, her voice coated in a layer of polite ice as she walked into the ballroom.
"Delaney and Amara are my guests, Victoria," Beckett said, his tone dropping several degrees into dangerous territory. "Delaney, this is Victoria Sterling. Victoria, Delaney Prince."
Victoria gave Delaney a tiny, dismissive nod that didn't reach her eyes. "Miss Prince. I believe I've seen you at the Sweet Corner Café. You serve the pumpkin spice scones, don't you?"
"I serve whatever is on the menu, Miss Sterling," Delaney replied smoothly, holding her head high, refusing to let the woman’s subtle condescension shrink her. "It’s honest work."
"Indeed," Victoria purred, turning her back on Delaney to face Beckett. "Beckett, we must discuss the gala next Friday. The Society is hosting the fundraising auction at the Owens-Thomas House. As lead preservationist, your presence is mandatory. I've already reserved our table."
Eliza immediately ran to Delaney’s side, grabbing her hand and pulling her toward the door. "Daddy, can Delaney come to the gala? She has a dress with flowers!"
Victoria’s sharp eyes snapped to Eliza, a flicker of genuine annoyance passing over her features before she masked it with a practiced, politician’s smile. "Darling, the Historical Society gala is a formal black-tie event for donors and board members. It’s not really suitable for... children or casual acquaintances."
Beckett stepped between Victoria and Delaney, his tall frame blocking Victoria’s view of them.
"Delaney is coming as my personal guest, Victoria," Beckett declared, his voice leaving no room for argument. "And Eliza will be attending the opening reception."
Victoria’s smile vanished completely. She looked at Beckett as if he had just announced he was painting the Mercer House bright pink. "Beckett, think about your standing with the board. The Telfair project represents four million dollars in state grants. The board expects propriety."
"The board hires me for my architectural work, Victoria, not my personal life," Beckett said coldly. "Now, if you'll excuse us, my guests and I were about to leave."
Victoria’s jaw tightened. She shot Delaney a look filled with pure, unadulterated venom before turning on her high heels and marching out of the mansion, the sharp click of her red soles echoing like gunshots against the hardwood floor.
As the heavy oak doors shut behind Victoria, the silence in the ballroom felt heavy and suffocating.
Amara looked at Delaney, her eyes wide with worry. Delaney squeezed her sister’s hand, giving her a reassuring look, but inside, her mind was spinning.
She looked at Beckett. He was standing near the grand staircase, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, staring at the floor. The moment of romantic possibility on the balcony had been completely shattered, replaced by the rigid, unforgiving realities of class, money, and society expectations.
"Beckett," Delaney said softly, walking over to him. "You don't have to invite me to the gala. She's right. I don't belong in that world."
Beckett snapped his head up, taking two fast steps toward her, grabbing both of her hands in his.
"Don't ever say that," he commanded softly, his eyes burning with an intense, fierce sincerity. "You belong wherever you want to be, Delaney. Victoria Sterling doesn't define my world. You brought light back into my home when I was drowning in the dark. I want you at that gala by my side. Please."
Delaney looked down at their joined hands. She knew accepting his invitation was dangerous. It would draw the ire of women like Victoria Sterling, it would highlight every difference between their worlds, and it would expose her fragile, debt-ridden life to public scrutiny.
But when she looked up into Beckett’s eyes—eyes that were no longer hollow, but filled with hope—she knew she couldn't say no.
"Okay," Delaney whispered. "I'll come."
May you like
Eliza cheered, jumping up and down, while Amara grinned from ear to ear. But as Delaney smiled at the little girl, a deep, uneasy knot twisted in her stomach.
She knew that entering Beckett Ward’s world wasn't going to be as simple as putting on a pretty dress. The old money of Savannah guarded its gates fiercely, and Delaney Prince was about to step directly into the crosshairs.
