Page 10 of Porcelain Lies

I shrink in my seat, watching my dad grab Uncle Igor by his collar and drag him toward the door. Mother’s crying now, silent tears streaming down her face.

“Ask them about the hospital records!” Uncle Igor shouts as my father shoves him out. “Ask about—”

The door slams shut, cutting off his words. When Dad returns, his hands are shaking.

“There is no Boyana,” he says, his voice ice-cold. “Your uncle is sick in the head. We never speak of this again.”

But I’d seen the photograph he mentioned. A baby girl with my mother’s eyes, tucked away in father’s study drawer…

“Ms. Fermont?”

I blink, our old dining room in St. Petersburg dissolving into the present. One of the event coordinators stands before me, clipboard in hand. “The silent auction is about to begin. We need you to make the opening announcement.”

“Right, of course.” I straighten my blazer, pushing away the echoes of that night. The ballroom buzzes with conversation and clinking glasses. Children’s artwork lines the walls, bright splashes of hope against cream-colored paint.

“I’ll be right there,” I say, my professional mask sliding back into place.

I move through the crowd, focusing on the artificial details to keep my mind occupied. Mrs. Abercrombie’s too-tight facelift makes her perpetual smile look painted on. Richard Maxwell’s hair plugs catch the light at odd angles. The Prescott twins’ matching nose jobs still haven’t quite settled.

My mother used to say you could judge the wealth of a room by counting the original noses. Right now, I count exactly three.

A flash of gold catches my eye — a woman’s statement necklace that probably cost more than my yearly rent. Her diamonds glitter as she laughs, head thrown back to showcase the fortune draped across her throat. These people wear their wealth like armor, thinking it makes them untouchable.

Just like Gianni does.

Did.

My stomach lurches. I grab a champagne flute from a passing server, not to drink but to have something to do with my hands. The bubbles rise and fall, hypnotic in their steady climbto the surface. Each one reminds me of a promise he made, bursting just as easily.

“Looking pretty rough there, sis.”

I freeze at the familiar voice. Nick materializes beside me, his usual disheveled self somehow managing to look both expensive and unkempt in what I recognize as one of Gianni’s old suits. The sight of it makes my chest tight.

“What are you doing here?” I hiss, glancing around to make sure none of the donors have noticed him. The last thing I need is my brother getting drunk and causing a scene at my biggest event of the year.

“I’m on the guest list. I’m a donor, remember.” He frowns at me. “What’s up with you?”

“I’m fine,” I snap, turning away from Nick’s scrutiny. “Just tired from organizing everything.”

“Bullshit.” He steps closer, lowering his voice. “You’ve been crying. And where’s lover boy? Thought he was supposed to be here playing supportive fiancé.”

My hand tightens around the champagne flute. “Don’t.”

“Come on, Stells. Your makeup’s smeared and you’re shaking like a leaf.” Nick gently pries the glass from my grip before I can crack it. “What happened?”

The genuine concern in his voice — so rare from my usually self-absorbed brother — makes my carefully constructed walls start to crumble.

“He’s…” My voice catches. I swallow hard, forcing the words past the lump in my throat. “He’s been seeing someone else. I just found out when she answered his phone.”

Nick’s face darkens. “That… son of a bitch! The wedding’s just around the corner.”

A hysterical laugh bubbles up. “Apparently, I was just convenient. Good for his image at charity events.” The tears start flowing again, and I hastily wipe them away. “God, I’m such an idiot.”

“Hey.” Nick pulls me into a corner, shielding me from prying eyes. “You’re not an idiot. He’s the idiot.”

“I trusted him.” The words come out in a broken whisper. “We were planning our future together, Nick. A house, kids…” I press my palms against my eyes. “How could I have been so blind?”

“Because you always want to see the best in people.” Nick’s arm wraps around my shoulders. “Even when they don’t deserve it.”

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