Chapter 2 - The Shattered Façade
The sound of breaking crystal broke the spell over the backyard. Several guests gasped; a few quietly began gathering their purses and slipping toward the side gate, desperate to escape the impending nuclear detonation of the Ortiz family dynamic.
“Dad, please,” Madison cried, taking another step toward him, trying to grab his arm. “It’s my day! We’re supposed to be celebrating my baby! Why are you letting her ruin this for us?”
Richard snatched his arm away from her touch as if she were made of hot coals. “Your day?” he barked, his voice echoing off the brick walls of her sprawling suburban home. “Your day?! You lied to me!”
“I didn't! I was just trying to protect you!” Madison wept, the tears now pouring freely down her face, ruining her flawless makeup. “She was always complaining, Dad! She was going to stress you out right before your cardiac checkup! I thought... I thought it was better if I managed things!”
“You blocked her number on my phone!” Richard roared, his eyes bulging. “I spent seven months thinking my eldest daughter had abandoned me! I sat in my empty house on Christmas Day wondering why Olivia didn't bring her husband over, why she didn't answer my holiday cards! You told me she was angry at me over Mom’s trust fund!”
I stood completely still, my heart hammering against my ribs, but my hands remained entirely steady around my daughter. Hearing him say those words filled in the final, agonizing pieces of the puzzle. For seven months, Madison hadn't just intercepted my attempts to reach him—she had fed him a steady diet of toxic lies about me, painting me as a bitter, ungrateful daughter who wanted nothing to do with him.
“You told him I was angry about the trust fund?” I asked, my tone deadly quiet. “Is that what you said, Madison? I never asked for a single dime of Mom’s money. You took the entire three hundred thousand dollars for your house deposit, and I didn't say a word because Dad asked me to keep the peace!”
The remaining guests—mostly my father’s high-society colleagues—murmured in utter shock. The squeaky-clean image of Madison Ortiz, the golden girl who could do no wrong, was disintegrating into dust right before their eyes.
Richard looked as if he might pass out. He clutched his left chest briefly—a gesture that used to make me rush to his side with water and his nitroglycerin pills—but this time, I didn't budge. I stayed rooted right beside Carlos.
“Isabella,” Richard rasped, his eyes glued to the baby in my arms. “Olivia... her name is Isabella?”
“Yes,” I said. “Isabella Rose. After Mom.”
A choked sob escaped my father’s throat. He reached out a trembling hand, his fingers hovering inches away from her small lace sleeve, as if he felt he didn't have the right to touch her. “She has Sarah’s eyes,” he whispered. “Oh God... she has Sarah’s eyes.”
“She does,” I agreed coldly. “And she’s lived seven months of her life without her grandfather because you were too busy worshipping the daughter who treated you like a pocketbook to notice that your other child was bleeding.”
“Olivia, I didn't know—”
“You didn't ask!” I cut him off, the anger finally burning through my calm exterior. “You didn't drive twenty minutes to my apartment to see why I wasn't answering! You didn't check on me once! You took Madison’s word for gospel because it was easier for you! It was always easier to believe I was the bad guy so you wouldn't have to confront her!”
Madison turned on me, her mask completely gone, her eyes twisted in pure malice. “You miserable bitch!” she screamed, stepping toward me with her nails clawed. “You came here today just to destroy my life! You couldn't bear to let me have one moment in the spotlight!”
Before she could reach me, Carlos stepped fully in front of us, his broad frame blocking her path like a brick wall.
May you like
“Touch my wife or my daughter,” Carlos warned, his voice low, gravelly, and terrifyingly calm, “and I will file a restraining order against you before the sun goes down. Back off, Madison.”
Madison recoiled, looking around the backyard for allies. But there were none left. Her friends were staring at her with disgust; her mother-in-law was pale with embarrassment, quietly instructing her son to collect their things; and her father was looking at her as if he were seeing a monster wearing his daughter’s skin.
