Then he leaned down, and picked out a paper from his briefcase, handing it out. “–Just sign the papers while I’m being nice. Write down the price you want as alimony, as much as you want, I’ll give it to you for your service to my family all these years.”
All the buried anger I’ve been keeping in me surged through my veins, but as much as my heart hurts and I yearn nothing but to cry my heart out, I know he’s not worth it. So, against my heart breaking apart, I collected the pen and paper from him, then signed it before throwing the paper at him.
This time around, I held his gaze, taking a step closer to him as I wiped away my tears, dropping the innocent doe act that sucks up all the shit thrown at her. “I don’t need your change.” My voice was low, but I’m sure it rang loud. I then gave him a onceover, and added. “You keep it. You look like you’ll need it more.”
I could see his face contort more into that of anger but I couldn’t care less. I turned around, picked up my phone and wallet which held all the essentials I could possibly need, then stormed out. In the living room, the other members of the family were there, and the moment they saw me, their curious gazes followed me.
I nearly scoffed, because it only meant one thing. They are aware. And they are waiting to see me walk out in shame from being divorced. It’s almost appalling how they sported looks that showed they were happy about this. The only one with an expression different is Ricky, but I couldn’t care less to pick anyone out.
They are all the same, and I’ve been fed enough shit by them all these years. I’ve tolerated it for too long.
I threw them a small glare, the ignored them and walked out.
My fingers move adeptly across the screen as I tapped the first number on my emergency dial. Tears glossed my eyes again but I blinked it back, reminding myself that I’ve shed enough tears for someone so unworthy.
Bringing the phone to my ears, the person on the other end picked up after the second dial. I cleared my throat. “Hey,” I called out. “It’s me.”
***
Isabella Montague.
“Miss Montague, we’re arrived.”
I flicked the invitation card between my index and middle finger, my eyes lazily slanting in the direction of the window of the limousine, the incessant flash of camera blinding even from the other side of the tinted window.
The chauffeur came to the side of my door, and waited for a few seconds before he leaned down and pulled it open, exposing me to the numerous paparazzi cameras there. If I thought the lights were blinding earlier, then I’m going to need glasses at this rate or stop seeing entirely.
I didn’t let it get to me though. Instead, I placed my hand in that of the chauffeur as he helped me out, and once I was on my feet steady, he went ahead to close the door behind me.
The red carpet was laid out, leading all the way to the inside of the grand hall set for the event, and outside were lines of paparazzi taking shoots of everything from every angle for the Karl & Rose Ball. The minute I stepped foot on the red carpet, I heard their questions come from all angles as they whispered amongst themselves.
“Who is she?”
“I’ve never seen her before.”
“Woah. She looks rich.”
“Is she an actress or something? I mean, look at that flawless skin.”
“Whoever she is, I’m sure she has a hella influence.”
Well, they aren’t wrong about that. But, I didn’t let their words get to me, knowing better than to allow myself to be caught up in the fever of fame. Instead, I held my chin up, and strutted my way down the red carpet, my steps calculated and steady, never once faltering or making any indications of such.
I didn’t pay any attention to the camera, knowing they’ve snapped more than enough to make up stories. And if they haven’t, they’ll be plenty of time because I’m certain the news headline of tomorrow will be epic enough and my face will be plastered all across it.
Upon entering the grand hall, I was instantly welcomed by the sound of sound of classic music in the background and light murmurs of the guests as they interacted. From the deep jewel tone palette to soaring ceiling with ornate moldings and decorative detailing-a crystal grand chandeliers hanging as a centerpiece, casting a warm and glittering glow throughout the room. Elaborate wall paneling ad pilasters with glided details added a touch of sophisticate to the place.
I took slower steps as I looked around the place, coming to stand by the steps where a man awaits, dressed in the attire of workers. Judging from his stance and look, I knew what he’s there for, so I extended my hand with the card out to him.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.