The Party
I knew I was a mess.
I looked nothing like the family and guests at the anniversary party. Nothing like what a Cincinnati should look like. But I didn’t care. That didn’t stop me.
I got out of the Uber, pulled my hoodie down tighter over my head, and climbed the marble steps leading to the venue. But just before I could reach the doors, a security guard stepped in front of me.
“I’m sorry, miss. This is a private event.”
“I know,” I said firmly, trying to walk past him again.
He blocked me with a hand in front of my chest. “We don’t want any trouble,” he said in that polite but menacing voice. “And I’m sure you don’t want any trouble either.”
Then, like I was nothing more than a beggar, he reached into his pocket, pulled out a wallet, and handed me a ten-dollar bill.
“Why don’t you get yourself something to eat?”
My stomach dropped. My breath caught in my throat. And then I exploded.
“How dare you!” I screamed in his face. “I am Sarah Sullivan! This party is for family! I am their daughter-in-law! I belong at this party!”
He looked at me then, really looked at me and for a split second, I thought he understood the weight of what he’d just done. Giving me a ten-dollar bill like I was some random woman off the street. But then...
He laughed.
“Please walk away,” he said, and his smile turned cold. “I’d hate to put my hands on you. Though I gotta say, with that mess you’re wearing and all that drunken fire... I bet you’re a good piece of ass.”
I froze.
I wish I could describe what I felt... shock, humiliation, rage, a kind of disbelief. No one had ever spoken to me like that before. Not even Alex Volkov and that man flirted with me at the restaurant.
“How dare you,” I whispered, breathless. “How dare you!”
The guard raised an eyebrow, staring at me like I was the crazy one he had to deal with like I was some drunk woman causing a scene.
And at that moment, his one-second distraction, I ran. Right past him. Straight into the party.
He was hot on my heels, but I didn’t care. I didn’t even know where I was running to. I just knew I had to get inside.
But he caught me fast. His grip locked around my wrists, twisting them behind my back. I winced.
“I’m gonna enjoy this,” he growled in my ear.
I didn’t understand what he meant. I didn’t want to.
And then,
“Sarah? Is that you?”
Perfect. Just perfect. The one person who had to see me like this.
Bella.
She was standing at the end of the hallway, elegant in a stunning red dress, her makeup flawless, her diamonds glittering.
“Let go of her,” she said sharply.
And just like that, the guard obeyed. Just let go. Like he was a damn soldier following orders.
He even gave her a little nod. A fucking bow. I stood there, stunned. My arms were still bent awkwardly behind me like I was braced for more pain. Like I expected nothing to go my way.
What did I have to do to get just one ounce of authority?
No one listened to me. Not where I came from. And not here, either. People were either afraid to engage with me or didn’t bother with me at all.
The guard turned and left, but I wasn’t done.
“You’re going to pay for putting your hands on me!” I shouted after him. “You.... you sick bastard!”
“I think that’s enough,” Bella said quietly, her voice cutting through mine as she stepped closer.
She gently turned my face toward hers. Her hand was soft, her nails perfect. She smelled like expensive perfume and calm power.
And then I really saw her. Bella... perfect Bella. In her red silk, in her place. She belonged here.
And me? In my hoodie and jeans, sweaty from running, my hair wild, face blotchy from the humiliation, I looked like a runaway. I looked like chaos.
I looked bad, okay? It was bad.
And I hated her a little more for it.
She got everything.
My husband.
My family.
My place, I should have been the Italian Mafia princess
And instead? I got nothing.
“Come with me,” Bella said, grabbing my hand and pulling me quickly down the hallway.
She opened a door, ushered me inside and I realized it was a bathroom. As soon as we stepped in, I yanked my hand away from her and snapped,
“Don’t fucking touch me.”
She shut the door behind us and turned on me just as sharply. “What is wrong with you?”
“You tell me!” I shot back. “Dragging me into a bathroom like I’m some dirty secret.”
“Someone could’ve seen you!” she hissed. “Do you realize what kind of mess you could have caused?”
“You mean what kind of mess I am? That’s what you really want to say, right?”
Bella threw her hands up. “Oh my God. You’re drunk. Are you drunk?”
“Leave me the hell alone, Bella,” I muttered, stepping back. “I just wanted to see my dad.”
She exhaled sharply, pressing her hand to her forehead like I was exhausting her.
“Your dad already left.”
I blinked, confused. “What?”
“He came in and gave gifts. Since we’re... sort of in-laws now, he made a brief appearance. Had a glass of whiskey. Said there was an emergency and he had to go.”
I was afraid of the answer but I still had to. I stared at her, stunned. “Did he ask about me?”
Bella shrugged, dragging her words. “Maybe he did. Maybe he didn’t. I’m just telling you what I know. Maybe mom or dad would know more. Or maybe... Cullen, since he’s your husband, and you were supposed to come with him.”
And then she added, her voice sharp with accusation, “He told everyone you weren’t feeling well.”
“Not feeling well meant drunk. That son of a bitch. He brought me here, left me locked in the car, and ordered the driver to take me back... then came to the party and played pretend like nothing happened."
I clenched my fists. My voice shook. “He lied.”
Bella sighed. “Look, Sarah, you can’t go in there looking like this.”
“Why? Because I’ll ruin the Cincinnati name?” I laughed bitterly. “Aren’t you and Cullen already doing such a great job with that?”
Her expression changed. “What do you mean?”
“You know exactly what I mean.”
Before she could respond, there was a soft knock on the bathroom door.
“Bella? Are you in there? Are you okay?”
It was Cyrus.
“I’m fine,” she called back.
But the door opened anyway. Cyrus stepped in like he half-expected to find his wife being held hostage. His eyes locked on me, and at first, he tensed. Ready for anything.
Then he saw my face. The mess. And something in him softened. His posture relaxed.
He looked at me, steady and quiet, and asked, “What’s going on?”
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