Chapter 4

The Caldwell mansion glowed like a demon's lair, music and cruel laughter pouring from every window. Inside, Emily's birthday party had become something darker, a celebration of Mona's total destruction.

"To throwing out the trash!" Emily raised her sparkling glass, her face bright with sick joy. The crowd of rich snobs echoed her toast, their laughter cutting through the air like knives.

Samuel stood by the fireplace, his arm tight around Lora's waist. He hadn't even bothered to change his wine-stained shirt, the very wine they'd thrown at Mona before tossing her into the street.

"I can't believe you actually married that nobody," one of his cousins smirked. "What a waste of five years."

Samuel laughed, pulling Lora closer like a trophy. "Had to be done. We needed her father's company, didn't we? Besides," he kissed Lora's cheek with his lying lips, "I had something better waiting in the wings."

Lora soaked up his attention like a sponge. She was everything Mona wasn't, tall, confident, born into old money. She belonged in this snake pit of wealth and cruelty.

"Tell them about her face when you accused her of stealing," she urged Emily, giggling like a schoolgirl. "The way she kept crying 'I didn't do it!' As if anyone would ever take her word over ours."

Emily settled into her favorite chair like a queen enjoying the suffering of her subjects. The crowd huddled around her, hungry for more stories of pain.

"Poor little Mona," Emily's voice dripped fake pity. "She actually thought she could become one of us. As if we'd ever accept someone so... beneath us."

The servants moved like ghosts through the crowd, refilling glasses and clearing plates. Their faces showed nothing, but their eyes said everything. They'd watched it all happen ,how these monsters had broken down a young woman who only wanted to belong.

"Remember when she tried to redecorate the living room?" Sarah, Samuel's snake of a sister, jumped in. "Those cheap modern pieces she bought?"

"Which mysteriously got smashed in storage," Emily smirked, not even trying to hide her guilt. "Such a terrible accident."

More laughter. More champagne. The party grew louder as people dropped their masks, showing their true, ugly faces.

"She was so desperate to fit in," one of Emily's friends sneered. "Following you around like a lost puppy, Emily. It was pathetic to watch."

Emily's smile turned evil. "Oh, but that made it so much more fun. The way she kept trying, no matter how cruel I was. Like watching a mouse in a maze with no exit, running until it drops from exhaustion."

In the corner, Maria the housekeeper gripped a tray until her knuckles turned white. She'd liked Mona, had tried to warn her. But Emily had threatened her job, her home, her very livelihood if she dared help.

"The best part," Emily continued, feeding off the attention, "was watching her spirit break. Day by day, piece by piece. Until there was nothing left but an empty shell who flinched at her own shadow."

Samuel checked his phone, bored with talk of his wife's suffering. "At least she signed everything over before we kicked her out. Makes the divorce quick and clean."

"Speaking of which," Emily turned to Lora, her eyes gleaming, "we should start planning the wedding. Spring would be perfect. Just have to wait for the divorce papers to clear, of course. Can't have people talking."

Lora clapped her hands like a child promised candy. "I already have so many ideas! Nothing like Mona's cheap little wedding. This will be a true Caldwell event everyone remembers."

"To the real Mrs. Caldwell!" someone shouted. Everyone raised their glasses again, toasting the destruction of one woman and the crowning of another.

Emily stood up, smoothing her dress that cost more than what most people make in months. "And right now, she's out there in the storm, with absolutely nothing. No money, no friends, no one to help her. Just like the nothing she always was."

Thunder crashed outside, making the windows shake.

"Don't worry," Emily laughed, enjoying the sound. "The storm can't touch us in here. Let her freeze out there. Maybe she'll get sick and die, saving us the trouble of ever seeing her face again."

The party moved to the ballroom, where the band played dancing music. Samuel pulled Lora to the dance floor, the exact spot where he'd danced with Mona on their wedding day, promising to love her forever.

"I always knew she wasn't right for you," Lora purred, wrapping herself around him. "She never belonged in our world."

Samuel's smile was as cold as ice. "She served her purpose. Now it's time for the real thing."

Back in the living room, Emily gathered her closest friends for more poison gossip.

"You should have seen her face when we accused her of stealing," she said, savoring each word like a fine wine. "Like a scared animal. So shocked that her perfect little dream was shattering around her."

"But what if she fights back?" one friend asked. "She might have proof..."

Emily's laugh was sharp enough to cut. "Proof of what? Everything's in Samuel's name now. Every account, every house, every penny. She signed it all away, believing his lies about love. And now?" She spread her hands like a magician finishing a trick. "She's nothing. No one. Back to being the nobody she was born to be."

Outside, the storm grew wilder. Inside, the celebration became more twisted as the alcohol flowed freely.

Someone started betting on how long Mona would survive on the streets. Another group traded stories about all the times they'd mocked her when she couldn't hear.

"Remember when she tried to join the charity board?"

"Or that disaster when she attempted to host a dinner party?"

"God, she was so desperate for us to like her."

Emily drank it all in, her eyes shining with evil delight. Five years of pretending to tolerate her daughter-in-law, five years of carefully planned humiliation, had finally paid off in full.

"I wish we could see her now," Lora said, coming back to the group. "Probably still crying in some dirty alley."

Samuel pulled her onto his lap, not caring who watched. "Forget about her. She's gone. This is our time now."

The party showed no signs of stopping as midnight came. If anything, it grew more wild, more honest in its hate.

They toasted to Mona's downfall again and again, each toast crueler than the last.

"To the gold-digger who dug her own grave!"

"To the servant girl who thought she could be a Caldwell!"

"To Emily's greatest victory yet!"

From her throne-like chair, Emily raised one final toast, her voice carrying over the crowd. "To the end of Mona Smith. May she die alone and forgotten, as she deserves."

The crowd cheered like animals. The music blared. The champagne flowed like water.

And not one person in that glittering mansion spared a thought for the broken young woman they'd thrown away like garbage.

.