The champagne tower was a masterpiece of engineering-hundreds of crystal coupes stacked in a perfect pyramid, golden liquid shimmering under the lights.
Kalea stood in front of it. She could see her distorted reflection in the glass. A woman in a blue dress wearing green earrings, looking like she was made of broken shards.
Haleigh's laugh floated through the air. The crisis was being managed. The party would go on.
Eleanor appeared at Kalea's elbow. She gripped Kalea's arm with bruising force.
"You will go to the guest room," Eleanor whispered, her voice shaking with suppressed rage. "You will wait there until the party is over. And then, you will apologize to Jennie."
Kalea turned her head slowly. "What?"
"You heard me," Eleanor said. "Franco is furious. The merger is at risk. You will apologize, you will say it was a misunderstanding caused by your medication, and you will give the earrings back."
"Give them back?" Kalea repeated. "To the mistress?"
"To keep the peace!" Eleanor hissed. "Do you have any idea what is at stake? You are selfish. You have always been selfish."
Something inside Kalea snapped. It wasn't a loud snap. It was the quiet sound of a tether finally breaking.
"Am I your daughter?" Kalea asked softly. "Or am I just a poker chip?"
Eleanor's eyes were cold. "You are an Alexander. You do what is required."
Kalea smiled. Tears welled in her eyes, but the smile stayed fixed.
"Okay," she said.
She reached out. With one finger, she pushed the bottom glass of the tower.
"No!" Eleanor gasped.
It happened in slow motion. The glass tipped. The balance shifted.
CRASH!
The sound was deafening. An explosion of crystal and wine. The tower collapsed in a cascading wave of destruction. Shards of glass flew everywhere. Champagne sprayed like a geyser, soaking Eleanor's couture gown and drenching Kalea from head to toe.
The room went dead silent again. This time, there was no murmuring. Just shock.
Kalea stood in the wreckage. A shard of glass had sliced her palm. Blood mixed with the champagne dripping from her fingertips.
"You love her more!" Kalea screamed, her voice cracking, pointing a bloody finger at Eleanor. "You love the perfect, stolen daughter you shaped from clay more than the one who shares your blood! The one you broke!"
The words, though not the ones everyone might have expected, still hit the room like a bomb.
Haleigh dropped her drink. Her face went gray.
Franco let go of Jennie and stormed toward Kalea. "That is enough! You have lost your mind!"
He grabbed Kalea by the shoulders and shook her. "Stop this! Now!"
Kalea looked at him. Her eyes were empty holes.
"Choose," she said.
"What?" Franco yelled.
"Choose," she said, louder. She pointed at Jennie, who was cowering near a waiter. Then she pointed at herself. "The contract. Or her. Right now."
Franco looked around. He saw the board members watching. He saw the press taking photos. He saw Kalea, bleeding, wet, screaming like a madwoman. She was a liability. She was a disaster.
He let go of her. He took a step back.
He turned and walked toward Jennie. He took off his tuxedo jacket and draped it over Jennie's shoulders, shielding her from the cameras.
The message was clear. He chose the mistress.
The crowd let out a collective breath. The humiliation was complete.
Kalea didn't cry. She felt a strange, terrifying lightness. The worst had happened. She was free.
She turned and walked toward the French doors leading to the terrace and the pool.
"Where are you going?" Eleanor shouted.
Kalea didn't answer. She just kept walking.
