Chapter 6 - The Unmasking
The ballroom went completely still as Thomas Sterling and I walked down the grand staircase toward the center of the room.
Beatrice stood rooted to the spot, her hands shaking violently, her gold handbag clutching against her dress. Her mind was wildly attempting to reject the reality crashing down upon her.
It can't be her. It’s impossible! That girl was a penniless, filthy farm girl from a dirt town!
Liam stepped forward, his voice trembling so hard he could barely articulate words. "Chloe...? Is that... is that really you?"
I stopped a few feet away from them, holding a flute of vintage crystal champagne. I looked Liam up and down with a cool, detached expression—the way one might look at an old, forgotten piece of furniture.
"Good evening, Liam," I said, my voice smooth, elegant, and resonant across the quiet room. "Or should I say... Mr. Miller?"
"Chloe!" Liam took another step, tears instantly brimming in his eyes. "What... what is happening? Where have you been? Your phone was disconnected! I didn't know—"
"She doesn't owe you an explanation, young man," my father’s voice boomed, stepping up beside me like a mountain of granite. Thomas Sterling looked down at Liam with utter disdain, then turned his gaze toward Beatrice.
Beatrice swallowed hard, trying desperately to regain her social composure. She forced a tight, artificial smile onto her face, stepping in front of her son.
"Mr... Mr. Sterling," Beatrice stammered, her voice pitched an octave too high. "There must be a profound misunderstanding here! This girl... this girl is an imposter! She was our housemaid—I mean, my daughter-in-law! She ran away from home after throwing a hysterical fit!"
Several wealthy guests nearby gasped, whispering behind their silk gloves.
I chuckled softly, taking a slow sip of my champagne. The sound was cold, musical, and terrifying.
"A housemaid, Beatrice?" I asked, stepping closer to her until I could smell her heavy lavender perfume. "Is that what you told your country club friends while you forced me to scrub your floors, insulted my family every single day, and claimed I came from nothing?"
"You... you lied to us!" Beatrice hissed, dropping her fake smile as panic turned into vicious cornered rage. "You tricked my son! You pretended to be a poor farm girl!"
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"I never lied about anything, Beatrice," I said calmly. "My family owns Oakhaven. We own Sterling Heritage. I lived simply because I believed love was about character, not money. But you were so blinded by your own arrogant greed that you never even bothered to ask my last name."
Beatrice’s breath hitched. She turned frantically to look at the surrounding crowd. The bank presidents, the local mayor, and the wealthy socialites she had bragged to for years were all staring at her with disgust and horror.
