Chapter 6 - The Confession
The video looped silently on the massive screen above the dance floor, showing Amanda slipping the million-dollar ring into her silver purse over and over again like an inescapable nightmare for the Vance family.
Chloe was sobbing hysterically, her expensive mascara running down her cheeks in thick, dark streaks. She turned her desperate, tear-stained face toward Eleanor, but her mother was currently staring blankly into space, quietly hyperventilating as the reality of their social ruin settled over her like a lead blanket.
"Vivienne..." Chloe whimpered, taking a pathetic, stumbling step toward me. Her manicured hands reached out, trembling violently. "Vivienne, please. I—I didn't know! I thought... Amanda lied to me! You have to tell your father it was all a mistake, please! Look at my wedding! It's ruined!"
I looked down at Chloe—the woman who had spent three years calling me cheap, dead weight, and garbage. I didn't feel angry anymore. I didn't feel hurt. I felt a profound, liberating emptiness.
"Your wedding isn't ruined, Chloe," I said quietly, stepping back so her filthy hands wouldn't touch my dress. "Your illusions are just finally catching up to reality."
"Vivienne, baby," Dominic whispered, his voice cracking as he fell to his knees right there on the marble floor, ignoring the snickers and gasps of the surrounding guests. He grabbed the hem of my father's silk pocket square where it draped over my shoulder. "Please. Look at me. We're supposed to be a family. We have a baby coming. You can't just throw us away over... over a mistake!"
"A mistake?" I looked down at my husband—the man who had watched his mother rip my dress open, the man who had told me to just let them check my things so we could go home. "Dominic, the moment your mother tore my clothes off in front of two hundred people, you didn't defend your wife. You didn't protect your unborn child. You asked me to make it easier for you."
Dominic choked on a sob, burying his face against my shoes. "I was scared! You don't know what my mother is like—"
"No," I interrupted, stepping back so he clutched empty air. "I know exactly what your family is like. And now, you get to spend the rest of your life living with them without me."
My father signaled with a single, subtle lift of his hand.
Two security guards stepped forward, gently but firmly hauling Dominic up by his tuxedo lapels. He thrashed and wept, calling my name over and over again, his voice echoing pathetically against the vaulted ceilings as they dragged him toward the exit doors.
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Richard Vance slumped completely to the floor, burled in his own expensive silk tie, while Eleanor sat frozen in a gold-rimmed chair, staring blindly at the wall as her entire world burned to ashes.
"Come on, sweetheart," my father said, wrapping a warm, strong arm around my waist. "Let's get you home. The private jet is warmed up and waiting."
