Page 1 of Porcelain Lies

Chapter One

Stella

I pace between half-decorated tables, my heels loud on the marble floor of the Grand Ballroom.

Around me, volunteers hang streamers and arrange centerpieces for tonight’s charity gala, but my attention stays locked on my phone screen as I hit redial for the tenth time.

“Come on, Gianni, pick up.”

The call goes straight to voicemail again. My stomach churns. I haven’t been able to reach him all day. This isn’t like him.

The decorations for the children’s cancer benefit mock me with their cheerful colors — bright balloons and glittering stars that should lift spirits, not remind me how much could go wrong. A volunteer struggles with a banner near the stage, and I take a deep breath.

Come on, Stella.

These kids deserve better than your scattered energy.

“Need any help?” I call out, lowering my phone.

The volunteer shakes her head, finally securing the corner. “Got it, Ms. Fermont.”

I nod and check my watch again — 3:45 PM. Less than four hours until guests arrive, and my keynote speaker is MIA. Gianni had promised to deliver an inspirational speech about his commitment to funding the cause. The families coming tonight need that message of hope.

My thumb hovers over his number again.

“Everything okay?” Maria, my assistant, approaches with a clipboard.

“Gianni’s not answering.” I twist the silver ring on my right hand — a nervous habit I’ve never shaken. “He’s supposed to be here for sound check in fifteen minutes.”

The phone stays silent in my palm as I stare at the time again: 3:47 PM.

I adjust another place setting, fighting the urge to check my phone again. The crystal glasses catch the light from the chandeliers, creating tiny rainbows across the white tablecloth. I force a smile at the catering staff arranging the table numbers.

“Ms. Fermont?” One of the servers waves me over. “Should we leave space at the head table for Mr. Maranzano’s personal assistant?”

The mention of his name twists my stomach. “He… usually travels alone.” I smooth my blazer. “But maybe leave one extra chair, just in case.”

Maria rushes up with the donor placement chart. “The Hendersons want to know if they’ll be seated with Gianni. They’re considering doubling their pledge.”

“I’m sure he’ll be here any minute.” I smile tightly, praying that he will be. “Traffic from the airport, you know how it is.” But his flight touched down hours ago. I already checked the schedule. Twice.

My phone buzzes, and I snatch it up, but it’s just another text from the florist confirming delivery. The time glares back at me: 4:03 PM.

“The sound technician needs to test the microphone,” another volunteer calls out.

I wave toward the stage. “Tell him we’ll have to do it later. Our speaker is…” I glance at my phone again, “delayed.”

One more call. The rings echo in my ear before hitting voicemail. Again.

“I need some air.” I hand the seating chart back to Maria. “Can you supervise the centerpiece arrangement? Make sure they alternate the tall and short ones as we discussed.”

She nods, concern etched across her face. “Of course. Should I try calling his office?”

“No, I’ll handle it.” I’m already walking toward the terrace doors. Behind me, I hear whispers from the staff, probably wondering why I’m not more worried about my fiancé’s disappearing act.

Oh, I’m worried alright.

If they only knew the knot growing in my chest wasn’t just about tonight’s event. Gianni can sometimes be distant — his job is high pressure. But he always takes my calls. Always.

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