Chapter 4 - The Mockery Rekindled
The pre-wedding dinner that evening was an exercise in pure class theater.
The Montgomery family had arrived in full force: Julian’s father, Arthur Montgomery, a patrician man with silver hair and the cold, appraising eyes of a federal judge; his mother, Eleanor, draped in understated Carolina pearls; and Julian himself, a handsome, hollow-eyed young man who looked as though he had spent his entire life being handed trophies he hadn't competed for.
Beverly Sanders was in absolute ecstasy. She fluttered around Arthur and Eleanor like a manic humming-bird, dropping names of country clubs, private schools, and charity boards like breadcrumbs.
"Our family has always prioritized decorum," Beverly purred over the shrimp cocktail, adjusting her diamond brooch. "The Sanders name stands for heritage in this county. That’s why we are so blessed that Julian and our precious Chloe found one another. Two families of identical values."
"Values are everything, Beverly," Arthur Montgomery replied in a slow, dry drawl, cutting his filet mignon with surgical precision. "My family has spent four generations maintaining an unblemished reputation in North Carolina. In our circles, scandal isn't just an embarrassment; it’s bad for business."
"Oh, absolutely!" Beverly trilled. "We don't tolerate vulgarity. Never have."
I sat at the far end of the dining table, seated between Richard and a distant second cousin who reeked of gin. Matthew had been relegated to the "children’s parlor" in the basement with a nanny, a directive Beverly had issued the moment we arrived: *“We can't have awkward children distracting Julian’s parents during the formal toasts, Richard. You understand.”*
Richard, of course, had understood immediately.
Throughout the four-course meal, Chloe held court. She drank glass after glass of vintage champagne, her voice growing louder, more brazen, and more venomous as the night progressed. She openly mocked the waitstaff for bringing the wrong vintage of dessert wine; she made crude remarks about Julian’s younger sister’s weight, which Julian merely smiled through with the dead-eyed tolerance of a hostage.
Whenever Chloe’s eyes drifted toward my end of the table, her smile widened into a predatory grin.
"Marissa," Chloe called out down the length of the mahogany table, cutting through a conversation Arthur Montgomery was having about state tax policy. "Did you bring a backup dress for tomorrow? Just in case?"
A ripple of knowing laughter spread through the Sanders side of the table. Uncle Greg chuckled into his whiskey. Richard cleared his throat and looked down at his plate, his ears burning pink.
Eleanor Montgomery looked up, her aristocratic brow arching in mild curiosity. "A backup dress? Is there something wrong with your wardrobe, Marissa?"
Before I could answer, Chloe piped up, her voice ringing clear across the dining room. "Oh, Eleanor, it’s an inside joke! Marissa has the worst luck at weddings! Ten years ago, she had a little... wardrobe malfunction. We’re actually showing a clip of it tomorrow during the reception montage! You’re going to die laughing!"
Beverly reached over, tapping Chloe’s hand playfully. "Chloe, sweetheart, don't spoil the surprise! Julian’s family doesn't need to know all our little family secrets until tomorrow!"
Arthur Montgomery frowned slightly, his sharp eyes flicking from Chloe to Beverly, and then down the table to me. I sat completely still, my hands resting folded in my lap, meeting Arthur’s cold gaze with an expression of calm, unshakeable dignity.
"I see," Arthur murmured, dabbed his mouth with his napkin, and did not laugh.
After dinner, the party spilled out onto the back terrace for cigars and cognac. The night air was crisp, carrying the scent of pine needles and damp earth from the woods bordering the estate.
Richard grabbed my arm as we stepped through the French doors, dragging me into the shadow of a stone archway. His grip was tight, his breath hot with cabernet.
"What is your problem tonight?" he hissed, his face twisted in frustration. "You sat there through the entire dinner looking like a statue! Eleanor Montgomery asked you what firm you worked for, and you barely gave her two sentences!"
"I answered her question, Richard," I said, looking down at his hand until he loosened his fingers from my sleeve. "I told her I am a Director of Urban Development. I didn't realize I was required to audition for your cousin’s in-laws."
"You are supposed to be charming!" Richard snapped. "Do you realize what Julian’s father could do for my distribution company? He sits on the board of Novant Health! One word from Arthur Montgomery, and my company gets the supply contract for twelve regional hospitals! And you're sitting there sulking because Chloe made a joke about an egg from ten years ago!"
"It wasn't a joke, Richard," I said softly, the words dropping like stones into a well. "It was an assault. It was sexual harassment. And she recorded me without my consent."
Richard threw his hands up in utter disgust, letting out a harsh, mocking groan. "Jesus Christ, Marissa! Ten years! You have been nursing this pathetic grudge for ten entire years! Look at Chloe! She was a child! She doesn't even remember why she did it! Why can't you just let things go? Why do you have to be so damn bitter?"
I looked at my husband. I looked at the man I had shared a bed with for a decade, the man who had watched another woman project my unclothed body to two hundred strangers and had spent the subsequent ten years demanding that I apologize for bleeding on the carpet.
"You're right, Richard," I said, my voice sweet, smooth, and utterly hollow. "Ten years is a very long time to hold onto something. You're completely right."
Richard blinked, surprised by my sudden capitulation. A greasy smirk of relief spread across his face.
"Good," he said, patting my shoulder awkwardly. "I'm glad you're finally seeing reason. Now, go upstairs and check on Matthew. Make sure he doesn't let that disgusting toad out of its box. I'm going to have a cigar with Arthur."
Richard walked away, swaggering across the lawn toward the men gathered around the stone fire pit, desperate to wedge himself into their circle.
I stood in the darkness of the archway, watching him go.
May you like
Then, I turned around and walked back inside the silent, empty house.
***
