Amanda stepped through the arched doorway and left the noise of the ballroom behind. The long corridor leading to the washrooms was dimly lit by antique wall sconces. Thick, hand-woven Persian runners covered the hardwood floor, absorbing the sound of her heels.
She stopped behind a massive marble pillar. She pressed her back against the cold stone and peered around the edge.
Seraphina was standing in front of a large gilded mirror outside the women's washroom. She was pressing her fingers under her eyes, practicing a wide-eyed, tearful expression.
Amanda's fingers curled into fists. She stepped out from behind the pillar, ready to confront her.
Before Amanda could speak, the washroom door swung open. The sharp clatter of high heels echoed in the hallway. Three women walked out. Amanda recognized them immediately. They were the daughters of Julio's business partners.
Amanda quickly stepped back into the shadow of the pillar. She held her breath.
The woman in the center, wearing a bright red dress, pulled a compact from her purse. She snapped it open and laughed.
"Did you see Amanda standing there like a ghost?" the woman in red asked. "She looks pathetic. She can't even keep Julio's attention for five minutes. No wonder Billie is the favorite."
Amanda's fingernails dug into the soft flesh of her palms. The sting grounded her. She kept her body perfectly still.
Seraphina, standing by the mirror, heard the women. She turned around. Instead of walking away, a nasty, triumphant smile spread across Seraphina's face.
Seraphina took a step toward the socialites. She placed her hand on her chest, right over her collarbone, mimicking Billie's innocent gesture.
"It is so sad," Seraphina said, her voice dripping with fake sympathy. "I work with Julio. He tells me Amanda is very mentally unstable. She throws tantrums over nothing."
The three socialites stopped walking. They turned and looked Seraphina up and down. Their eyes locked onto the champagne-colored dress.
The woman in red let out a sharp, cruel laugh.
"Who are you?" she asked. She pointed a manicured finger at Seraphina's chest. "That dress is from last season's clearance rack. You look like a cheap napkin. Do not speak to us."
Seraphina's fake smile shattered. The blood drained from her face. Her hands flew to her sides, and she grabbed handfuls of her cheap silk skirt, clutching the fabric tightly. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out.
The socialites rolled their eyes and walked past her, their heels clicking loudly as they headed back to the ballroom.
Amanda watched from the shadows. The tight knot of pain in her stomach loosened slightly. A cold, dark amusement washed over her.
Seraphina stood trembling in the hallway. She snatched her small clutch from the console table and ripped her phone out. She dialed a number with shaking fingers and pressed the phone to her ear.
"Julio," Seraphina whined. Her voice echoed loudly in the empty corridor. "Some girls just bullied me in the hallway. They were so mean. Come find me, please."
Amanda listened to the silence as Julio spoke on the other end. Seraphina's face instantly softened. The panic vanished, replaced by a calculating smirk.
"Okay, I am coming back in," Seraphina said.
She hung up the phone. She shoved it into her clutch and spun around sharply to head toward the ballroom. She moved too fast.
The edge of her champagne skirt caught on the jagged branch of a decorative floral arrangement sitting on the console table. Seraphina yanked her body forward. The fabric pulled tight. She stumbled, her shoulder jerking downward.
A tiny, almost invisible object slipped from her right earlobe. It hit the thick Persian rug with a muffled, heavy thud.
Seraphina did not notice. She regained her balance, smoothed her dress, and practically ran down the hallway toward the ballroom.
The corridor fell dead silent.
Amanda stepped out from behind the marble pillar. She walked slowly to the spot where Seraphina had stumbled. She looked down at the dark red rug.
A small point of light reflected off the dim wall sconce.
Amanda crouched down. Her knees popped in the quiet hall. She reached out with her pale fingers and picked up the object.
She stood up and held it under the light. Her lungs stopped working.
It was a heavy, antique emerald earring surrounded by a halo of crushed diamonds.
Amanda's hand began to shake uncontrollably. She knew every cut of that emerald. It was her grandmother's earring. It was the only heirloom she had ever been given, the only thing she truly valued in this house. She kept it locked in a biometric safe in her childhood bedroom upstairs.
The realization hit her like a physical blow to the head. Seraphina was not just sleeping with her fiancé. Seraphina had been in her bedroom. Seraphina was wearing her dead grandmother's jewelry.
Amanda squeezed her fist shut. The sharp edges of the diamonds bit deep into her skin. The physical pain was nothing compared to the violent, explosive rage detonating in her chest.
She turned around and marched toward the ballroom.
