Chapter 8 - PICKING UP THE PIECES
As Victoria was dragged out, screaming obscenities that shattered her refined illusion forever, the ballroom remained in stunned silence.
Nathaniel turned to the crowd of three hundred elites. “The engagement is off. The party is over. Please find your coats.”
No one argued. The mass exodus was swift and quiet. Within twenty minutes, the grand ballroom was empty, save for the scattered debris of the evening, Nathaniel, Elena, and Lily.
Elena was still on the floor, holding Lily, who had buried her face in her mother’s neck.
Nathaniel took off his tuxedo jacket and laid it gently over Elena’s shoulders. He knelt beside them again, picking up the crushed box that Victoria had thrown first. He opened it carefully. Inside was a small, hand-painted wooden music box Mrs. Donnelly had made. The hinge was broken, but when Nathaniel turned the key, a soft, fragile lullaby began to play.
Lily peeked out from Elena’s neck, sniffing.
“It still works,” Nathaniel said softly, holding it out to her.
Lily reached out with a chubby hand and took it, holding it to her chest. “The mean lady broke my book.”
“I know,” Nathaniel said, his voice cracking with emotion. “But books can be fixed. And I have a whole library. We can read a new one every single night. If your mom says it’s okay.”
He looked up at Elena. His eyes, usually so guarded and impenetrable, were completely open. They were filled with apologies, with sorrow, and with a desperate, terrifying hope.
May you like
“Elena,” he whispered. “I am so sorry.”
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