Bella’s POV
I caught her eye for a split second before turning to face the table with what I hoped was a gracious smile. The envelope felt heavy in my hands as I accepted it from her small fingers.
Camilla’s expression shifted, her perfectly practiced smile dissolving like sugar in rain.
She had orchestrated this mont, planned to deliver the announcent herself with theatrical flair. Even though everyone would discover the contents within monts anyway, the stolen spotlight clearly stung her pride.
"The 28th it is," Hugo interjected smoothly, his voice cutting through the awkward silence before anyone could voice their displeasure. "Our little ssenger brings us good fortune tonight."
His reassuring nod toward Camilla was unmistakable, a gentle encouragent not to let this minor disruption sour her evening.
"Let’s celebrate this wonderful news properly," Camilla declared, though I caught the way she swallowed hard, her jaw tightening with barely contained irritation.
I found Hugo’s gaze across the table before lifting my wine glass.
The collective cheer and clinking of glasses felt distant, like watching a movie through frosted glass. Everything blurred together in a haze of polite celebration.
My daughter’s innocent mistake shouldn’t have warranted such harsh stares. The difference of sixty seconds hardly seed worth the collective disapproval now radiating from every adult face. While I understood Camilla had every right to feel disappointed, watching grown people direct such cold judgnt toward my little girl made my protective instincts flare.
The irony wasn’t lost on . In my childhood, when Camilla disrupted my special monts, my stepmother would rush to her defense like a lioness protecting her cub.
Those incidents were countless. Birthdays ruined, achievents overshadowed, precious mories tainted by her need for attention. When I dared express hurt or frustration, I was lectured about maturity and understanding.
Now a fully grown Camilla was sulking over sothing trivial, and the sa people who once silenced my childhood pain were rallying around her wounded feelings while casting bla on my innocent daughter.
The favoritism had never been subtle, but tonight it felt particularly sharp.
"Pardon for a mont," Hugo announced as his phone buzzed insistently.
He stepped away from the table, leaving exposed under the collective weight of their scrutiny. The atmosphere grew thick and suffocating, like being trapped in a room slowly filling with smoke.
"I was sorry to hear about your loss," Debra said, her voice carrying clearly across the sudden quiet.
She pitched her tone just loud enough to ensure everyone caught her words. I noticed Linda and her husband exchange aningful glances before their attention settled on with renewed interest.
"Thank you," I managed curtly, focusing intently on cracking the crab legs in front of , hoping to signal my reluctance to engage.
My eyes drifted toward the doorway, silently willing Hugo to return and rescue from this verbal ambush.
"Eighteen seems awfully young to make such a difficult choice," Camilla remarked with false sympathy.
Her timing was perfect, seizing this opportunity to exact revenge for Tara’s earlier announcent. The sweetness in her voice couldn’t mask the venom beneath.
"It’s fine," I replied more firmly this ti, hoping my tone would end the discussion.
My stepmother shifted in her chair, angling herself toward Linda and her husband like a gossip columnist delivering breaking news.
"She found herself in trouble at eighteen," she announced matter-of-factly.
My fork clattered against my plate. My eyes widened in shock and disbelief.
I searched my father’s face desperately, waiting for him to intervene, to finally silence his wife’s cruelty. But he remained frozen, offering no protection from her verbal assault.
Apparently, Camilla’s wounded pride no longer mattered. They had found a more entertaining target for their evening’s destruction.
"Is this accurate, young woman? You conceived without a proper mate?" Kevin asked, his voice gentle but disapproving as he carefully cleaned his hands with his napkin, studying my face as if expecting contrition.
"Children, imagine if that baby had survived. You might have had another sibling," Debra continued, now addressing my kids directly.
I slamd my utensil down hard enough to make the glassware ring.
"They are children. Keep them out of this conversation." I fixed Debra with a steady stare, my voice carrying a warning that she had ventured into dangerous territory.
"Still displaying that charming attitude, I see," Linda muttered, rolling her eyes dramatically while crossing her arms in judgnt.
"Excuse , what exactly did you say?" I turned toward her, feeling my composure begin to fracture.
Sothing wild stirred inside , a protective fury I could no longer contain.
"I said you’re disrespectful, and your children lack proper upbringing," she replied coldly, showing no hesitation about delivering such cutting words.
"My children demonstrate far superior manners than the person you raised," I shot back without missing a beat.
Her sharp intake of breath was audible across the table.
"Bella, we were simply offering our sympathy," Debra protested. "Besides, you shouldn’t mourn that loss. The situation was improper. You were fortunate to escape that night."
Her words made my blood burn. I glared at her with undisguised hatred.
"Ah, so that explains her sudden departure," Kevin said, nodding with obvious disapproval.
"I’m done here. I refuse to waste another mont in this toxic environnt." I pulled the napkin from my lap and threw it onto the table as I stood.
"My therapist warned against prolonged exposure to poisonous people," I declared, ignoring the collective gasps around the table.
"The audacity of this woman," Linda hissed, whipping her head toward her husband.
"I’m a respected researcher, the sa person you all practically begged to attend this dinner," I replied, leaning across the table and pointing directly at her.
The room exploded into chaos at my response.
Years of suppressed anger were finally finding their voice, and I couldn’t silence the torrent even if I wanted to.
Linda’s gaze traveled from my accusatory finger to my face with undisguised contempt.
"What’s happening here?" Hugo’s voice cut through the commotion as he returned to find pointing at his mother.
"Your researcher is having a ltdown because she considers herself above our company," Linda lied smoothly, erasing all evidence of their collective cruelty and painting as the aggressor.
"Bella, what’s wrong? You look furious," Hugo asked, his tone sharp but genuinely concerned.
I straightened my spine and swallowed the rage burning in my throat, trying to regain so semblance of control.
"This was clearly a mistake. She never should have been invited," Camilla snapped, the sa woman who had insisted Hugo bring here specifically to remind of my place in their hierarchy.
Now she was performing for her in-laws, saying whatever would earn their approval.
"She doesn’t understand when to remain silent. Tonight she’s insulted nearly everyone at this table," Camilla continued, her voice trembling with manufactured emotion.
I stared at her in amazent. What a masterful performance.
"She’s lying! They said terrible things to Mommy, so Mommy got upset!" Tara shouted, her small fist striking the table as she defended with fierce loyalty.
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