The Man Who Failed Me

The whole estate went silent the moment my score was revealed. 89. One more mark and I'd have passed.

A message written in fine print read, "The score is lower than 90. The wedding shall be delayed by a year, along with the partner's trust fund, the estate project's profit, and right to reside in the main house post-wedding."

The Lawsons wrote those into the declaration of trust the year before. I gripped my champagne glass, beads of water trickling through the cracks between my fingers.

In my previous life, I smashed the glass right here and demanded to know why they thought they could grade me like I was livestock.

I waited for a year.

Within that year, the estate project's profit came back to the Lawsons, Yves rewrote the prenup's terms, and Wendy married the man I was supposed to be my husband.

"Emilia." Yves' voice pulled me out of memory lane.

Melanie, Yves' mother, put her cup down. "This set of rules has remained within the family for three generations, Emilia."

Wendy was seated around the table reserved for my friends and family. She didn't have the privilege to be sitting as a judge, but Melanie said she was my best friend and knew me the best.

Wendy stood up, the edges of her eyes red. "She's a brilliant girl, Mrs. Lawson." Then, she looked at me and continued with a trembling voice, "She's just always in a hurry and not great at being considerate to her elders."

I held up my champagne glass but said nothing. That girl pretended she was speaking up for me only to make me look like an impatient woman who didn't know how to treat my elders.

Yves held my shoulder down. "It's just a year." That was a clear warning right there.

I put the glass back on the table, and it clinked against the porcelain plate. Yves looked at me. He was probably getting ready to pull me outside and sweet-talk me into submission.

I picked up the mic on the table and turned around to smile at him. "Rules are rules. And so, I accept the delay."

Wendy picked up a tissue and held the corner of her eye. Her head hung low, but I noticed the curvature of her lips.

Yves heaved a sigh of relief, and I nodded. "But if we're talking rules, let's also talk transparency."

"What do you mean?" Melanie looked at me.

I pointed at the screen. "I scored 89, fine. However, I want to know why I had marks docked."

The butler was standing at the other end of the table, and he was in charge of projecting the screen.

Yves frowned. "The grading's anonymous, Emilia. You don't have to get into the nitty-gritty."

"I'm not asking for names. I'm asking for details to figure out where I messed up so I can improve."

Melanie said, "Show it to her."

The butler pressed his tablet, and the screen changed. It showed my base average.

It was 93, but there was also a note that was written in fine print. "Unusually low scores aren't included in the base average, but it triggers risk control and deducts from the base average."

Four marks, and it showed where I was docked. Two unusually low scores lit up. One mark. Three marks.

I clenched my fists. So… not everyone in this family thought I was unfit for marriage. Someone scored me unusually low and triggered the deduction.

Yves' face fell, and he spoke up faster than I could. "The system must've gotten it all wrong."

Wendy's tissue fell onto her lap. She bent over to pick it up, but the back of her hand hit the edge of the table.

I didn't look at her.

Instead, I held the mic close to my lips as I looked at Melanie straight in the eye. "Mrs. Lawson, can you save this detailed breakdown of the grading? I'd like to get feedback from these particular judges during tomorrow's explanation."

Melanie fell silent before nodding. "Of course."

I put the mic down. Yves tried to hold my hand, but I moved away and bent over to get my purse. When I turned around, Wendy had just raised her head. Our eyes met. Her eyes were still red-rimmed, but her mask was starting to crack.