Chapter 6 - THE SHOWER
The Oakridge Country Club was the epicenter of Columbus elite society—a sprawling estate of manicured lawns, white pillars, and whispering fountains where old money mingled with arrogant new wealth.
On a crisp Saturday afternoon in early October, valets in crisp uniforms scurried back and forth parking luxury sedans as guests draped in designer dresses and tailored suits ascended the grand limestone steps into the crystal-chandeliered ballroom.
Inside, the room was a sea of pale blue and white hydrangeas. A string quartet played softly in the corner, while waiters circulated with flutes of sparkling cider and bite-sized hors d'oeuvres.
At the center of it all stood Paige Henderson.
She wore a form-fitting designer maternity dress in ivory silk that hugged her swollen belly, her blonde hair styled in elaborate cascading curls. Next to her stood Michael, his arm draped possessively around her waist, looking every bit the proud patriarch basking in the adoration of his sycophantic peers.
The doors at the back of the ballroom swung open.
A hush fell over the room as heads turned toward the entrance.
I walked in alone.
I wore a stunning, emerald-green silk midi dress that draped gracefully over my prominent, six-month baby bump, my dark hair pinned back in an elegant French twist, and diamond drop earrings catching the light. I walked with the poise of a woman who owned the room, not a discarded wife crawling back from the shadows.
For a moment, the string quartet seemed to stutter.
Gasps rippled through the crowd. Whispers erupted like static electricity across the tables.
Isn’t that Rachel Bennett?Good lord, is she... pregnant?Whose baby is that?
Michael’s face drained of color as if he had seen a ghost. His arm dropped away from Paige’s waist as he stared at me, his eyes widening in mounting, incomprehensible horror as his gaze dropped from my face to the unmistakable curve of my stomach.
Paige’s smile faltered, her painted lips parting in confusion as she looked between Michael’s terrified expression and my calm, composed approach.
I walked straight toward them, stopping just a few feet away. A handful of mutual acquaintances parted instinctively, clearing a path.
“Michael,” I said, my voice carrying clearly across the silent ballroom. “Paige. Congratulations on the shower. I couldn't possibly miss the celebration of a Bennett heir.”
Michael found his voice, though it sounded strangled, tight in his throat. “Rachel... what... what are you doing here? How... how are you...?”
May you like
I rested my hand gently over my belly, smiling serenely.
“Surprised, Michael? You shouldn't be. After all, you always complained that I couldn't give you a son.” I tilted my head, letting my eyes meet his with icy precision. “It turns out, I was just waiting for the right moment to prove you wrong.”
