2: I'm Getting Married

Celeste.

When I got home, every bone in my body felt stiff from all the posing, and encountering my mother was the last thing I wanted right now.

So I tried to tiptoe through the living room. However, luck clearly wasn’t on my side because her voice thundered across the house, freezing me in place.

“And where are you coming from dressed like a slut?!” she barked.

A heavy sigh slipped past my lips as I turned toward her. “I don’t think I owe you an explanation for that,” I murmured without giving her the chance to continue.

I turned to leave when her next words made my steps halt.

“I’m getting married.”

The sentence landed in my chest like a bomb.

I wasn’t expecting anything better from her, but still... “Are you kidding me right now?” I asked, staring at her in disbelief.

She rolled her eyes and took a seat. “You must really think my life is some kind of joke.”

A scoff escaped my lips. “You made me see it that way. And getting married? You must really be trying to outdo yourself this time, Mom.”

“Celeste!” she snapped.

Then she exhaled sharply, as though trying to keep her cool. “I don’t care what you think. All I’m telling you is that I’m getting married in three days, so be prepared,” she declared.

“Three days?” I repeated slowly, with my arms folded across my chest.

She took an elegant sip of champagne like she hadn’t casually shattered the little peace left in my life.

“You heard me right.”

I stared at her, wondering if this was another twisted joke, but her eyes were painfully serious.

My chest tightened. Did she even care how I felt about this?

Don’t get me wrong, I would do anything to stay away from this woman. But she was getting married in three days and only telling me now?

“And... who exactly is this man?”

She gently placed her glass down. “The Almighty Dovan Revanchi.”

My head spun instantly.

“Dovan Revanchi.” The words sounded sour.

I knew him. Scratch that, it was the same man she had been obsessing over nonstop a week ago?

The one who even bought me a gold necklace I rejected before ever seeing it?

“Mom, you met this man, what... like two weeks ago? And now you’re marrying him?”

“Two,” she corrected smoothly.

“Oh, wow.” I laughed dryly, clapping my hands.

“That changes everything then. I absolutely love that for you. Happy married life.”

“Celeste...”

“No, seriously, I’m happy for you.” I said, drawing closer to her.

“This might actually beat your record. What was the last one? The casino owner? Or the creepy divorced politician? Or the judge with terrible breath? Or—”

“Celeste!”

“What?!” I retorted sharply.

Her expression hardened instantly. “There is no reason for you to be disrespectful.”

I laughed again, the kind that didn’t reach my eyes, because hearing that from her sounded almost comical.

“Disrespectful?” I repeated. “You want to talk about disrespect? You’re marrying a man you barely know after two weeks. You didn’t even think this through, and now you’re telling me three days before your fantasy wedding and somehow I’m the problem?”

“He loves me,” she chimed in.

“Oh God! Spare me the nonsense, Mom!” My eyes threw daggers at her.

Her jaw tightened immediately, which meant I was getting under her skin, but I couldn’t care less.

“Why do you always act like this, huh?” she snapped. “Why can’t you ever just be happy for me?”

“Happy?” I stared at her incredulously. “You jump from one rich man to another every few months and you expect me to celebrate? When I already know exactly how this marriage is going to end? One month max?”

“That is enough,” she gritted out, her voice trembling with rising anger.

“Is it?”

Her champagne glass hit the table with a sharp clink. “You have no idea what I sacrificed for you. Do you?”

I could feel my anger surging through my veins, but I forced myself to stay calm.

“Sacrificed?” My voice remained steady through sheer effort. “Are we rewriting history now? Is that what we’re doing? Because you didn’t sacrifice shit.”

She stood abruptly, matching my gaze. “You ungrateful child!” she spat.

I arched one eyebrow. “I’m not ungrateful. You are,” I said, my voice dangerously low.

“Dad left you everything. Everything he owned. Everything a woman could ever need. And what did you do with it? You destroyed it.”

“You don't get to tell me what I do with my husband's money!” she shot back defensively.

“Yeah... I forget this so-called husband is my father. Oh... let's not forget how you had to burn through every dime he left behind and run into the arms of other rich men for more.”

“I raised you with that money!” she snapped. “It put you through college! You lived off it!”

“I...” I stepped closer to her. “I put myself through college.” My eyes burned with tears I refused to let fall.

“You stopped paying my bills during the second semester of my first year.”

Her face hardened dangerously, and somehow that only fueled me further.

“You know what’s crazy?” I continued bitterly. “The fact that you actually expect people not to notice what you’re doing.”

She raised an eyebrow. “And what exactly am I doing?”

“Being a gold digger.”

Slap!

My mother’s palm collided with my cheek, snapping my head sideways. For a second, the entire room fell silent.

The sting spread across my skin, while my chest rose unevenly, but I refused to cry. I would rather swallow broken glass than cry in front of my mother.

Slowly, I turned back toward her.

“You do not get to speak to me like that,” she snapped coldly. Her eyes were red with anger and what looked like tears, but I had seen those manipulative tears a thousand times before.

“You think you would’ve survived without me?” she demanded. “You think life magically pays for itself?”

“At least I work for my money,” I shot back.

“And parade around half naked in front of cameras while doing it,” she scolded. “You’re nothing but a spoiled brat.”

“A spoiled brat who doesn’t have to marry every rich man who glances in her direction,” I replied sharply.

She inhaled deeply before sitting back on the couch. Then she picked up her champagne glass and swirled it lazily between her fingers.

“Since you know everything already, I think I should also tell you that this house has been sold,” she said casually, like she was discussing the weather.

“I’m getting married, and I won’t be returning here after the wedding.”

The words hit me so hard my brain stalled.

“What?”

“The paperwork was finalized this morning,” she continued calmly.

“This is my father’s house!”

“No. This is my property,” she corrected smoothly. “Everything your father owned became mine after he died.”

My chest tightened painfully as I struggled to keep my tears from falling. “This is the only thing left of him,” I whispered, trying to make her understand.

“Oh please.” She waved dismissively. “You never even knew him.”

The words stabbed straight through my chest. She always knew exactly where to strike.

I stared at her, trying to recognize the woman standing before me. How could anyone be this cold?

I drew in a shaky breath. “Why are you only telling me this now?” I asked weakly.

“Because I don’t need your permission to sell the house.”

Right. Of course she didn’t. Everything had always been about her.

“The wedding is on Saturday,” she said again. “Make sure you pack your things before then. The new owners are already on their way. We have a wedding to attend, and you’ll be moving in with me.”

“Congratulations! I would rather sleep on the streets than move in with you,” I snapped bitterly. “And as for the wedding, count me out. I’m not coming.”

“Yes, you are. You don’t have a choice.” Her expression remained irritatingly calm. “You are the daughter of the bride.”

My heart turned to stone. “I would rather die than attend that wedding.”

She laughed softly and turned away from me, heading toward her precious little throne to grab her bag.

“Suit yourself then... and stay ready. They’ll come for you.”

I paused.

Something dreadful settled deep in my stomach. “Who is coming for me?”

“My husband’s family. If you aren’t coming to the wedding, then you should at least be available for pickup on Sunday morning. You can’t stay here. The house is sold.”

“My father gave you everything,” I said weakly, clinging to the final thread of defense I had left.

“Yes, he did,” she answered gently. “He gave me everything. Including a bunch of trouble like you.”

Her words settled inside my chest like poison. She didn’t really mean that.

At least that’s what I kept telling myself, but the more I tried to believe it, the more real it sounded. Maybe she truly did mean every word.

Her hand suddenly rested on my shoulder. “Someday,” she said slowly, “you’ll realize I’m doing all this for you. But for now, you should pack your things. Someone will come pick you up on Sunday morning.”

With that, she walked away, leaving me standing in a house that no longer felt like home.

A place that was supposed to belong to me before my own mother traded it away for a wedding ring.

I sat at the foot of the stairs for a long time after she left. Then I opened my bank account, and the numbers stared back at me mockingly.

The balance looked as empty as the love my mother had ever given me.

Payday wasn’t until the end of the month. And the month was nowhere close to ending.

My hand dragged through my hair in frustration.

I knew I was screwed this time, because...

Where was I supposed to stay?