Theodore grabbed Elayne's upper arm. His grip was bruising, his fingers digging into her bicep through the fabric of her dress.
"What do you think you're doing?" he hissed, leaning close so the passersby wouldn't hear. "I saw you come out of there. Are you trying to ruin this family's reputation?"
"He's sleeping with your daughter!" Elayne cried out in her mind, trying to wrench her arm free. "In there! With Bianca!"
"Lower your voice," Theodore snapped, though she hadn't made a sound. He didn't look surprised. He didn't look angry at Calhoun. He looked annoyed at Elayne. "Fix your hair. You look like a maniac."
He dragged her toward the main ballroom. "You are going to go out there, you are going to stand by your husband's side, and you are going to show everyone that the Maynard family is united. Do you understand? The stock price cannot handle a scandal tonight."
"I want to go home," she pleaded with her eyes.
"You'll go home when I say you can."
He shoved her onto the edge of the dance floor. The orchestra struck up a fast-paced waltz. Before Elayne could run, her brother-in-law Conrad appeared. He grabbed her hand and pulled her into the crowd.
"Smile, Elayne," Conrad whispered, his breath smelling of scotch. "Father's watching."
He spun her around. His grip was rough, punitive.
"I heard you barged in on the lovebirds," Conrad laughed in her ear. "Desperate look for you. Really."
"Let me go, Conrad," she conveyed, trying to pull her hand away.
"No can do." He spun her again, faster this time.
Elayne felt dizzy. The room was a blur of lights and faces. She tried to plant her feet to stop the spin, putting her weight on her right heel.
SNAP.
A sickening, metallic crunch echoed from her shoe.
The heel of her right stiletto didn't just break; it sheared off completely.
Elayne lost her balance. Her ankle twisted violently. She pitched forward. Conrad didn't catch her. In fact, he released his hand at the exact moment she fell, letting gravity take her.
She hit the polished parquet floor hard. Her knees slammed into the wood. A sharp pain shot up her leg. Her dress tore at the hem with a loud rip.
The music faltered and stopped. A collective gasp sucked the air out of the room.
Elayne lay on the floor, dazed. She looked up. Hundreds of eyes were staring down at her. Some were covering their mouths. Others were smirking.
High above, on the mezzanine balcony, Bianca stood looking down, a glass of red wine in her hand. She was smiling.
Elayne tried to push herself up. Her ankle throbbed. She reached for her broken shoe.
She looked at the heel. It hadn't just snapped from wear. Inside the break, glinting under the chandelier light, was the flat head of a heavy-duty industrial tack. It had been driven into the structure of the heel, weakening it so it would fail under pressure.
"It was sabotaged," Elayne gasped silently. She held up the shoe. "Look!"
Theodore marched into the center of the circle. His face was purple with rage.
Elayne reached a hand out to him. "Dad, look at the shoe. Someone put a tack in it," her desperate eyes begged.
Theodore looked at her hand, then at her face. He didn't help her up.
SLAP.
The sound was louder than the music had been. Theodore's hand connected with Elayne's cheek, snapping her head to the side.
The room went deathly silent.
"Have you lost your mind?" Theodore shouted, his voice shaking. "You're drunk! You come here, jealous of your family, and throw yourself on the floor for attention?"
Elayne held her stinging cheek. Tears welled in her eyes-not from pain, but from the sheer injustice of it. "No... Dad, look at the tack..." her mind screamed.
"Stop lying!" Conrad yelled, stepping in. "She's been drinking all night. She's hysterical."
"Get her out of here," Theodore barked at the security team. "Get her out of my sight before she embarrasses us further."
Two burly guards hoisted Elayne up by her arms. Her feet dragged on the floor. She clutched the broken shoe to her chest like a weapon.
"It's not true!" she screamed silently as they dragged her backward. "They did this! They planned this!"
The guests parted like the Red Sea, watching the crazy Maynard wife being removed from the premises.
They threw her out the back door. She landed on the concrete loading dock, the cool night air biting her exposed skin. The door slammed shut and locked.
Elayne sat there in the dirt, clutching the broken shoe, the industrial tack gleaming in the moonlight like a tiny, metal eye.
