Chapter 5 - The Glass Castle
By 6:00 PM, the Sterling Estate was quiet.
I stood in front of the full-length mirror in the master bedroom, dressing for the gala. For twenty years, Julian had insisted I wear subtle, conservative pastel dresses—clothing designed to make me look like a modest, quiet background figure.
Tonight, I wore a floor-length, backless gown of midnight-black silk. My hair, usually pulled up into a tight, practical bun, fell over my shoulders in soft, elegant waves. I painted my lips a deep, bold crimson.
Around my neck, I wore Eleanor’s vintage diamond choker—a piece of jewelry Julian had tried to locate for years to liquidate, unaware that Eleanor had given it to me for safekeeping years ago.
My phone rang. It was Julian’s personal assistant, Marcus.
“Mrs. Sterling?” Marcus said, his voice nervous. “Mr. Sterling just arrived at the St. Regis to oversee the setup. He wanted me to check if you were coming. He said... he said you might be too overwhelmed with caring for his mother to attend.”
“Tell Julian I wouldn't miss his special night for the world, Marcus,” I replied smoothly. “I’m on my way.”
At 7:30 PM, my black town car pulled up to the grand entrance of the St. Regis Hotel. Crystal chandeliers glittered through the high arched windows, and photographers snapped pictures of high-society guests stepping onto the red carpet.
I stepped out of the car. The cool evening breeze caught the hem of my black silk dress. I held my head high, walking past the velvet ropes with a quiet, undeniable authority.
The grand ballroom was packed with over two hundred guests. Tuxedos, designer gowns, and champagne flutes filled the room under the warm glow of gold lighting.
Standing near the main stage, holding a glass of vintage champagne and laughing heartily with a group of major bank executives, was Julian.
He looked immaculate in a tailored Tom Ford tuxedo, his hair slicked back, his smile gleaming with self-assured arrogance.
Standing right beside him, her hand wrapped casually around his arm, was a younger woman in a skimpy silver dress.
Chloe. The mistress from the phone call.
She was laughing at his jokes, leaning in close to whisper in his ear, completely unbothered by her role as the 'other woman.' Julian didn't even bother to hide her; he introduced her to investors as his "executive public relations consultant."
I stood near the entrance, watching them for a few moments. Every laugh from Chloe echoed the taunts she had spewed through the speaker while Eleanor lay dying. Every arrogant smirk on Julian’s face burned into my memory.
May you like
I lifted a glass of champagne from a passing waiter’s tray and took a slow, deliberate sip.
Then, I walked straight toward them.
