Chapter 2 Not the Announcement He Expected

My father sat quietly at the head of the table. He picked up his glass, took a slow sip, and checked his watch.

It was noon, the time he had picked for the formal toast.

He set his glass down, rose to his feet, and straightened his suit. Every eye in the room turned toward him almost immediately.

Next to me, Austin cleared his throat and fixed his tie. He even moved half a step forward as if anticipating something.

He probably was. After all, he had been preparing for this moment for two weeks. He wrote his speech in advance and practiced it every night in front of the mirror, excited to stand here as the man of the house when my father announced our engagement.

Naturally, he was also eagerly waiting to have it announced that his name would be added to the deed.

My father looked around the room. His gaze paused briefly on Austin before dropping to the kraft envelope in his hand.

For a moment, I thought he might open it.

Instead, he folded it and slipped it back into the inside pocket of his jacket.

"Thank you all for taking the time to be here today," he began, his voice carrying easily across the room. "We're here to celebrate my daughter, Lily, and her new home."

Austin smiled even wider.

"This penthouse in Bellmere was purchased entirely by Lily, with her own money." My father raised his glass. "As her father, nothing makes me prouder than seeing her build a life for herself."

Then, he smiled. "So here's to my daughter—single, self-sufficient, and the sole owner of a home that is entirely hers."

The room fell silent.

It lasted only a second, but that was enough.

The word "single" landed with deliberate emphasis.

Relatives exchanged glances around the room. Austin's smile stayed frozen in place, but the look in his eyes had changed. That half step forward he had made suddenly seemed painfully greedy.

He turned toward me, shock flashing across his face before giving way to panic.

I leaned back in my chair and slowly ran my finger around the rim of my glass.

I didn't look at him.

The mood at the head table shifted immediately. Austin was stuck where he stood. If he moved forward, he'd make a fool of himself. If he stepped back, everyone would know something had gone wrong.

Unfortunately for Austin, Wren had never been good at reading the room.

Apparently, she had decided that this was her chance to make a good impression, so she picked up her wineglass and walked toward my father.

"Mr. Ellison," she said sweetly. "Austin is always so busy with work. I'll make sure to come by often and help Lily keep the place in order. You don't have to worry."

She lifted her glass, looking as confident as if she already pictured herself with a key to the front door.

My father didn't even look at her.

He simply turned to my uncle and tapped his glass against his. "This wine is excellent. Take a couple of bottles home with you."

Wren stayed standing there, her wineglass still in the air.

No one acknowledged her.

The relatives at the table looked her way one after another, not with admiration but with sardonic amusement.

Her face turned red as her eyes started to glisten again.

Desperate to hide her embarrassment, she glanced around for something to take the attention off her.

Then, she saw my mother's empty glass.

"Oh, Mrs. Ellison, let me get that for you."

She reached quickly for the wine bottle.

As she turned, her elbow bumped the purse on my mother's chair.

The purse fell to the carpet with a soft thud. The clasp popped open, and everything spilled out: a lipstick, a facial mist, a folded silk handkerchief, a black Porsche key fob, and a single photocopied sheet of paper.

The page slid across the carpet and stopped right in front of Austin's polished shoes.

A name stood out on the part that was shown, written in bolded black letters—Austin Blanchard.

Wren let out a gasp, "Oh!"

Then, she hurriedly crouched to gather everything from the floor. She paused briefly when her fingers touched the Porsche key.

However, her attention quickly shifted to the sheet of paper.

Some wine had spilled on the carpet earlier, and one corner of the page landed in the wet spot. The paper was already soaking up the moisture, making the edge darker.

Wren stared at Austin's name before turning to look up at my mother. "I'm so sorry, Mrs. Ellison. I didn't mean to—"