Chapter 2 - The Aftermath of the ShockwaveThe sound of shattering glass still lingered in the air where my mother had dropped her flute. For three agonizing seconds, the ballroom was so quiet you could hear the hum of the air conditioning units and the soft breathing of Great-Aunt Beatrice, who remained blissfully asleep through it all.
Nicholas stood paralyzed. His fingers twitched against the hem of his pristine white jacket. The social hierarchy he had spent his entire adult life climbing, networking, and manipulating had just imploded in less than ten seconds, and the bomb had gone off right at the kids' table.
“Mr. Stewart,” Nicholas finally managed, his voice cracking slightly on the high notes. He forced a strained, desperate chuckle that sounded more like a dry cough. “I think there’s been some sort of misunderstanding. My sister, Jenna... well, she’s a wonderful hobbyist, but I assure you, the strategic positioning of my company and my wedding are entirely separate matters. Let’s not trouble you with her imaginative stories.”
Emmett didn’t blink. He slowly turned his head away from me, fixing Nicholas with a gaze so cold it could have frozen molten steel.
“Imaginative stories?” Emmett’s voice was dangerously quiet, cutting cleanly through the ambient noise of the room. “Nicholas, are you implying that I don't know who writes my material? Are you suggesting that I, the CEO of Stewart Technologies, would mistake a random hobbyist for the ghostwriter who single-handedly resurrected our public relations disaster last quarter?”
“No, I—of course not—” Nicholas stammered, taking a nervous half-step back as a bead of sweat rolled down his temple.
“Good,” Emmett cut in smoothly. “Because Jenna’s contract with my executive team is ironclad, highly compensated, and currently renewing for the next fiscal year. If she’s sitting at the children's table, it tells me a great deal about the values of the people hosting this event—and frankly, it makes me question the judgment of anyone who would marginalize brilliance in favor of superficial display.”
Around us, the whispers among the high-society guests began to swell like an oncoming tide. Investors who had spent the last hour trying to catch Nicholas's eye were now whispering to one another, pulling out their phones, frantically searching for any connection between Stewart Technologies and the name Jenna.
My mother finally recovered enough motor skills to rush over, her designer gown rustling loudly. Her face was flushed with embarrassment and anger, directed entirely at me as usual.
“Jenna!” she hissed, grabbing my arm with a tight, fingernail-digging grip under the table. “What is the meaning of this? Why didn't you tell us you were working with Mr. Stewart? You’re making a mockery of your brother’s wedding! Apologize to him right now and explain that this is all some sort of misunderstanding!”
I looked down at her hand on my arm, then met her eyes. For twenty-six years, I had shrunk under that exact gaze. I had accepted the hand-me-downs, the constant comparisons to Nicholas, the subtle and overt reminders that my quiet, creative life was a disappointment.
I gently but firmly peeled her fingers away from my arm.
“Mom,” I said, my voice steady and completely devoid of the hesitation she was used to. “You and Nicholas told me to stay out of the way, to sit at the back, and not to embarrass you. I’m right where you put me. If Mr. Stewart chose to come over here, you’ll have to take it up with him.”
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Emmett smirked, leaning back crossing his arms. “She’s right, Mrs. Vance. Or may I call you by your maiden name, since hospitality clearly isn't your strong suit? Now, if you’ll excuse us, Jenna was just explaining the symbolic significance of a green dragon breathing fire on a paper placemat, and I find it vastly more intellectually stimulating than anything being discussed at table one.”
Nicholas looked like he was about to burst into tears. His bride, Cynthia, who had remained frozen near the altar with her immaculate veil trailing behind her, finally marched over, her jaw clenched tight enough to break teeth.
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