“You were always our family’s greatest shame, so don’t even think about sitting at the front tables,” my mother told me at my sister’s luxury wedding, forcing me to stand in the rain outside with my little girl. Minutes later, my husband arrived in a black-suited convoy, took one look at our soaking wet daughter, and locked eyes with the wealthy groom who had mocked us. “Kneel and apologize to my princess,” my husband demanded, and as the guards drew their weapons, the arrogant groom dropped straight to his knees in front of all three hundred guests.
beneath Daisy’s legs, and shoved forward with all of his formidable weight.
I had no footing. The marble was slick with spilled wine. I stumbled backward, the heavy fabric of my dress tangling around my ankles. I felt a fleeting moment of weightlessness, the terrifying suspension of gravity, before my heel caught the low stone lip behind me.
