GRANDMOTHER’S FIFTEEN-YEAR GIFT

Ashcombe House glittered beneath a crystal chandelier, hundreds of guests in evening wear crossing the red carpet, chamber music drifting softly from an orchestra in the corner of the room.

I stood before the mirror in the small dressing room Lande Holdings had arranged for me, wearing a navy evening gown Nell had helped me pick out from a rental shop near the Draycott, my hands trembling slightly.

“You look stunning,” Nell said over the phone, her voice full of pride.

“Go shine, Delia.”

Sinclair appeared at the door, adjusting his tie, offering me a reassuring smile.

“You don’t need to do anything,” he said.

“Just be yourself. I’ll handle the rest.”

Meanwhile, in another corner of the hall, my father was deep in conversation with a few potential partners, hoping to persuade Lande Holdings to invest in Ashworth Maritime’s new shipping route expansion plan.

“Julian is leading this project,” I overheard my father’s voice as I passed through the corridor, “he has an outstanding vision, it’s certain to bring exceptional returns for any investor.”

Julian stood beside him, raising a glass of champagne, his expression striving for confidence, though his eyes kept flicking toward his phone screen, where a financial report he hadn’t yet finished reading was waiting.

I stood quietly behind a marble column, watching them, a strange feeling rising in me, not the gloating I had once imagined I would feel, but an unusual calm.

I no longer needed to prove anything to them.

I was only waiting for my turn to step forward.