Chapter 3 - The Return and the Trap
The air in downtown Charleston was warm and fragrant on the evening of Everett’s welcome-home party.
The venue was the top-floor penthouse of the historic Sovereign Building—a glass-and-steel space overlooking the harbor that Everett had bought two years prior. The party was filled with high-society figures: local politicians, medical tech investors, Bianca’s wealthy parents, Harrison and Victoria Langley, and the entire eight-person bridal party.
Bianca was in her element. She wore a backless crimson designer dress, holding a glass of champagne as she glided between groups of investors, holding court like a queen.
"Everett worked so hard in Singapore," Bianca was telling a group of senior board members near the grand piano as I entered the room. "I was managing the entire wedding logistics back home while keeping his schedule organized. It was exhausting, but family always comes first!"
I walked softly across the polished hardwood floor.
I was not wearing the hideous gray box dress. I wore a tailored ivory silk pantsuit with a soft silver blouse beneath it. My long silver hair was styled into an intricate, elegant crown braid that rested neatly atop my head, pinned with a single pearl heirloom brooch that Richard had given me on our twentieth anniversary.
As I approached the bar, Harrison Langley—Bianca’s father, a severe-looking man who made his fortune in commercial real estate—turned and spotted me.
"Ah, Helen," Harrison said, offering a stiff, polite nod. "Glad you could make it out of the countryside. Bianca was telling us earlier that you’ve been feeling under the weather lately. A bit frail, she mentioned?"
"Frail?" I smiled smoothly at Harrison. "I feel wonderful, Harrison. I’ve been busy tending to my garden."
Bianca turned at the sound of my voice. When her eyes swept over my tailored ivory suit and the immaculate crown braid on my head, her champagne glass trembled slightly in her hand. Her smile instantly turned rigid.
She excused herself from the board members and marched straight toward me, pulling me toward a quiet alcove near the coat room.
"What are you wearing?" Bianca hissed, her eyes darting around to make sure nobody was listening. "I explicitly sent you the navy dress for the pre-wedding events! You look like you’re trying to compete with me!"
"I am wearing clothing that fits my dignity, Bianca," I replied quietly. "And I don't compete with anyone in my own family."
"You are being stubborn and spiteful!" she spat, leaning closer. "You think because Everett is back tonight, he’s going to protect you? I’ve spent the last six weeks telling him how confused and forgetful you’ve been acting. He already thinks you're struggling with early-stage dementia, Helen."
A cold spike of shock hit my chest. "You told my son I have dementia?"
"I had to lay the groundwork," Bianca smirked, her face a mask of cruel triumph. "How else do you think I explained why you refused the wedding attire, why you broke your own pottery, and why you were acting so erratic in your garden? When he sees how you react tonight, he’ll just assume you're having an episode. He’ll sign the paperwork for a senior care home within six months."
Before I could speak, the private elevator chime echoed through the penthouse foyer.
The brass doors slid open.
Everett stepped out.
He looked tired from the long trans-Pacific flight, but he was as handsome as his father had been at thirty-five. He wore a crisp black suit, his eyes scanning the room until they locked onto mine.
"Mom!" Everett called out, his voice instantly softening as he bypassed the investors and walked straight toward me.
Bianca’s face instantly shifted. In less than a second, her venomous scowl vanished, replaced by an expression of radiant, tearful devotion. She threw her arms around Everett’s neck, kissing him passionately on the cheek.
"Oh, darling! You’re finally home!" Bianca cried softly, resting her head on his shoulder. "I missed you so much! I’ve been taking such good care of everything while you were away!"
Everett hugged her back briefly, but his eyes stayed on me. He stepped out of Bianca’s embrace and pulled me into a tight, warm hug.
"You look beautiful, Mom," Everett whispered into my hair, pulling back to look at my face. He paused, his thumb lightly brushing the tiny, fading mark near my cheekbone. "What happened here?"
Before I could answer, Bianca stepped smoothly between us, sliding her hand into Everett’s arm.
"Oh, sweetie, don't fuss over it," Bianca said quickly, sighing with dramatic pity. "Your mother had a little fall in the garden a few days ago. She got so confused while I was trying to help her with her outfit... she knocked over a heavy pot and scraped herself. I tried to comfort her, but she got so upset with me!"
Everett frowned, looking between Bianca and me. "A fall? Mom, you didn't tell me you fell."
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"I didn't fall, Everett," I said quietly, looking my son straight in the eye.
Bianca squeezed Everett’s arm tighter, casting a sympathetic, worried glance at her mother across the room. "See, darling? She doesn't remember clearly. It's... it's been getting worse while you were away."
