Chapter 2: Backstage Silence
The side room behind the altar smelled of stale upholstery and expensive jasmine perfume. It was meant to be a quiet bride’s retreat, but the air inside was thick with panic. Victoria paced the length of the Persian rug, her white train hissing against the wool with every sharp turn. Her chest heaved beneath the strapless bodice, and her manicured fingernails dug into her palms.
“Do you have any idea who was out there, Julian?” she hissed, her voice vibrating with a cold, controlled fury. “The board members from the foundation. The real estate developers. My parents!”
Julian didn't answer her. He sat on the edge of a velvet settee, his head bowed, his hands clasped tightly between his knees as if he were trying to crush the bones in his fingers. He hadn't looked at the door since we were led in here by a panicked usher.
I sat in the corner on a stiff wooden chair, rocking my sister against my chest. She had finally quieted down, exhausted from the screaming, her damp cheek pressed against my collarbone. Every few seconds, her little shoulders hitched with a lingering sob. I kept my eyes fixed on the floorboards, tracing the grain of the wood to keep my own breathing steady. I was six years old, but I knew enough about the world to know that fancy rooms didn't mean you were safe. Back in Queens, at least the walls didn't judge you for being hungry.
“Well?” Victoria stopped pacing, towering over Julian with her hands on her narrow hips. “Are you going to say something, or are you just going to sit there looking like a ghost? Who are they? Tell me this is some kind of sick joke.”
Julian slowly raised his head. The sharp jawline looked hollow now, the skin around his eyes gray and drawn. He looked across the room at me, a silent, heavy weight passing between us.
“They aren't a joke, Victoria,” he said, his voice raspy, completely stripped of its usual boardroom polish. “They’re my daughters.”
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Victoria let out a harsh, incredulous laugh that had no humor in it. “Your daughters? You told me your family died in a car accident in Ohio ten years ago! You told me you were completely unburdened!”
“I lied,” Julian whispered, standing up slowly. He took a hesitant step toward my chair, his hand trembling as he reached out a fraction of an inch before dropping it back to his side. “I built a life here. I didn't think the past would ever catch up to the ninth floor of a Manhattan hotel.”
