Shattered Illusions

At seven o'clock sharp, the ballroom lights dimmed slightly. The orchestra stopped playing. All eyes turned to the main entrance.

Margaret stood at a small podium with a microphone. "Good evening, everyone. Thank you for coming tonight to this very special event for the Blackwood family."

Alina felt her heart beating faster. This was it. The moment she'd been dreading.

"Tonight," Margaret continued with a wide smile, "we celebrate a homecoming. Someone who means so much to our family, who has finally returned after a long journey abroad."

The ballroom doors opened.

And she entered.

Clarissa Sterling.

Even Alina—who had prepared herself—had to admit the woman was stunning. A perfectly fitted red gown, long wavy hair falling flawlessly, impeccable makeup, and a smile that captivated hundreds of eyes.

But what hurt Alina was the way Daniel looked at her.

Just briefly—maybe one second—but Alina saw it. The way Daniel's eyes widened slightly, the way his breath caught for a moment, the way his jaw hardened as if struggling with something.

Recognition. History. Maybe something more.

Clarissa walked gracefully to the center of the room, each step calculated for maximum effect. Photographers took photos nonstop. Guests whispered in admiration.

"She's even more beautiful in person."

"They were couple goals back then. Poor Daniel having to move on to... well..."

No need to mention names. Everyone knew they were talking about Alina—the replacement who could never fill Clarissa's shoes.

Margaret hugged Clarissa warmly—a hug she'd never given Alina. "Welcome home, dear."

"Thank you, Mama." Clarissa called Margaret 'Mama'—a title Alina had never been allowed to use.

Then Clarissa's eyes scanned the room and stopped on Alina. Her smile widened—but didn't reach her eyes.

Clarissa walked closer with a confident stride. "Alina. Finally we meet."

Up close, Clarissa was more intimidating. Taller (or maybe because of the very high heels), more poised, more everything that Alina wasn't.

"Clarissa," Alina shook the extended hand with a firm grip. Showing no weakness.

"You look lovely," Clarissa said in a tone that was somehow condescending despite her words being a compliment. "Thank you for... taking care of Junior all this time. I know that must have been challenging."

Taking care. Not 'loving.' Not 'raising.' Taking care—like a job, like an obligation.

"Junior isn't challenging," Alina said in a calm but firm voice. "He's an amazing child."

"Of course he's amazing. He's my son, after all." Clarissa smiled—a smile that somehow claimed ownership.

Before Alina could respond, Daniel approached with Junior at his side. The child looked confused, his eyes shifting between Alina and Clarissa.

"Clarissa," Daniel greeted. His voice was different—softer? More gentle? Alina couldn't be sure, but it wasn't a tone she'd ever heard Daniel use with her.

"Daniel." Clarissa looked at him with a too-familiar smile. "You haven't changed. Still handsome as ever."

There was an awkward silence. All eyes in the room were on them—Daniel, his stunning ex-wife, his clearly inferior second wife, and the child in the middle of it all.

Clarissa knelt down, level with Junior. "Hello, Junior. I'm Clarissa."

Junior stepped back slightly, hiding behind Daniel's legs. "I know who you are. You're in the old photos."

"Yes, sweetheart. I'm..." Clarissa glanced at Daniel, then Margaret, looking for guidance. "I'm your birth mother."

Silence.

Junior looked at Clarissa in confusion, then looked at Alina. "But Mama's right there?"

The innocent words of the small child made everyone around them fall silent. Photographers captured the moment—pure confusion on Junior's face.

"Junior, sweetheart," Daniel knelt beside his son. "Clarissa is the mother who gave birth to you. And Alina is the mother who raised you. You have two mothers."

"But I don't want two mothers," Junior's voice began to tremble. "I want my Mama. Mama Alina."

Clarissa's smile faltered for a moment before returning. "Junior, I know this is confusing. But I'm back now. We can get to know each other slowly—"

"I don't want to!" Junior suddenly screamed—a sound that made all conversations in the room stop. "I don't know you! I want Mama!"

Junior ran to Alina, hugging her waist tightly while crying. "Mama! I'm scared! Why is everyone saying she's my mother? My mother is Mama!"

Alina knelt down, hugging Junior tightly even though her heart was breaking. "Shh, sweetheart. Mama's here. Mama's not going anywhere."

But even as she said it, Alina knew she was lying.

Margaret approached with a horrified face—not because Junior was upset, but because this was a scene in front of the public. "Junior, don't be dramatic. Clarissa is your birth mother—"

"Mama!" Junior turned, looking at Margaret with eyes full of tears. "Why is Grandma saying that? Mama is my Mama!"

Camera flashes captured every second. Tomorrow this would be in all the tabloids: "Blackwood Heir Rejects His Birth Mother."

Daniel stood there, clearly torn between his crying son, Alina holding him, Clarissa looking frustrated, and Margaret staring at him with a demanding gaze.

"Maybe we need somewhere more private," Daniel said. "For the family."

Margaret nodded quickly. "Yes. Daniel, take them to the private lounge on the second floor. Now."

***

The private lounge on the second floor of the Plaza Hotel was much quieter. Only Daniel, Alina (still holding the sobbing Junior), Clarissa, and Margaret were there.

Junior sat on Alina's lap on the sofa, his face hidden in Alina's neck, his small body still trembling.

"This is ridiculous," Margaret said in a sharp voice. "Junior, you need to learn to be mature—"

"He's only six years old, Margaret," Alina cut in. For the first time in five years, she interrupted her mother-in-law. "He has the right to feel what he feels."

Margaret looked at her with narrowed eyes. "You. This is all because of you. You must have turned Junior against Clarissa, made him afraid of her—"

"I never turned Junior against anyone!" Alina stood, still holding the child. "I never once badmouthed Clarissa in front of him! I was even the one who put Clarissa's photos in Junior's room so he wouldn't forget his mother!"

"Then why is he rejecting me?" Clarissa finally spoke, her frustration beginning to show. Her perfect mask was starting to crack. "I'm his mother!"

"You gave birth to him," Alina said, her voice trembling but strong. "But I raised him. I was the one up all night when he had a fever. I was the one who calmed his nightmares. I was the one who taught him—"

"Because that was your job!" Margaret cut in. "You were married to Daniel to be Junior's mother! That was your arrangement!"

Silence.

Those words hung in the air like a guillotine. Arrangement. Job.

Junior lifted his head from Alina's neck, looking at his father with teary, confused eyes. "Papa... what does Grandma mean? Arrangement?"

Daniel opened his mouth but no sound came out.

"Junior, sweetheart, Papa will explain later—" Alina tried.

"NO!" Junior screamed, frustrated and confused. "I don't understand! Why is everyone saying weird things? Why are there two mothers? Why did Grandma say Mama is a job?"

Tears flowed again. "Does Mama not love me? Is Mama here because Papa paid her?"

"Junior, no—" Alina hugged him tighter, her own tears starting to fall. "Mama loves Junior not because Papa paid her. Mama loves Junior because... because Junior is everything to Mama."

"This has gone too far," Clarissa said in a frustrated voice. "Margaret, we need a plan B. Clearly this child is too attached to her."

"Plan B?" Alina glared at Clarissa. "Junior isn't a business project that needs a 'plan B'!"

"Oh please," Clarissa's mask finally completely fell. "Don't act like you're the real mother. You knew this was an arrangement from the start. Daniel married you because he needed a glorified nanny for his son—"

"ENOUGH!"

Daniel's voice—loud, echoing in the quiet room.

Everyone fell silent. Even Junior stopped crying for a moment, shocked to hear his father yell.

Daniel looked at Clarissa with a gaze Alina had never seen before. Angry. Disappointed.

"Don't talk about Alina like that," Daniel said in a low but dangerous voice. "Whatever happened between me and her, you have no right to insult her."

Clarissa looked shocked. "Daniel, I'm just stating facts—"

"Facts?" Daniel stepped closer to his ex-wife. "The fact is you left Junior when he was one year old. You chose your career in Paris over your own son. For five years, you never called, never video chatted, never sent a birthday card. And Alina—" his voice softened slightly, "—Alina was there when Junior was sick. She taught Junior his ABCs. She calmed him during nightmares."

Clarissa's face paled.

"And now you come back—five years later—and expect what? Junior will immediately hug you? Call you mama?" Daniel shook his head. "That's not how relationships work, Clarissa. Not with children."

For the first time in five years, Daniel defended Alina.

And somehow, that made Alina's heart hurt more. Because why now? Why after she'd already decided to leave?

"Daniel!" Margaret stepped forward. She looked at her son with blazing eyes. "Have you lost your mind? Defending her in front of your own son's birth mother?"

"Mom, enough—"

"NOT enough!" Margaret turned to Alina, who was still holding Junior. "You. You caused all of this. You made Junior refuse to accept his mother. Give me Junior. Now."

"No!" Junior hugged Alina's neck tighter. "I want to stay with Mama!"

But Margaret was stronger—or maybe Alina was too tired to fight. Forcefully, Margaret took Junior from Alina's arms. The child immediately screamed, kicking at the air, his hands reaching out desperately toward Alina.

"MAMA! MAMA!"

"Junior—" Alina stepped forward, her tears falling.

"Leave," Margaret said in a cold and final voice. "You're not needed here anymore. Clarissa's back. Junior will be fine without you."

"Mom, this is too much—" Daniel tried to take Junior from his mother, but Margaret stepped back.

"You be quiet, Daniel! That woman has embarrassed our family enough tonight!" Margaret looked at Alina with a gaze full of hatred. "Get out. Now. I don't want to see you again."

"MAMA! MAMA ALINA!" Junior cried hysterically, his voice breaking anyone's heart who heard it. "DON'T LEAVE ME! PAPA! PAPA, PLEASE!"

Alina stood with trembling legs, tears streaming down. Every cell in her body screamed to take Junior back, to hold him, to comfort him.

But she had no right. She wasn't the birth mother. She wasn't truly Blackwood family. She really was just an arrangement.

"I'm sorry," Alina whispered—it wasn't clear who she was talking to. Junior. Daniel. Or herself.

Alina turned and walked out of the private lounge.

"MAMA! MAMAAAA!"

Junior's screams followed Alina into the corridor, piercing through the closed door, haunting her every step.

Alina walked quickly out of the hotel, not caring about the photographers still waiting in the lobby. Camera flashes attacked her, questions were shouted, but she didn't stop.

Alina had decided to leave. And she wasn't coming back.