Ashes of Betrayal, Flames of Revenge

CHAPTER THREE

I knelt on the elevator floor, desperately trying to gather my parents' ashes with trembling hands.

"Viola, get up. You're embarrassing yourself. People are going to think something's wrong with you. This is exactly why I can't take you anywhere these days." Brian hissed through clenched teeth.

I looked up at him through tears. "Something is wrong! My parents' ashes are all over this dirty floor! How can you just stand there?"

The elevator doors opened, and an elderly couple stepped back in shock when they saw me on my knees.

"Is she okay?" the woman asked Brian.

Brian flashed his charming smile. "She's fine. Just having one of her episodes. My poor fiancée has... issues." He tapped his temple meaningfully. "We're taking care of her."

The woman's eyes widened as she pulled her husband back. "Let's wait for the next one, dear."

As the doors closed, Vanessa's voice cut through my sobs.

"Just look at what you've done. You've made a complete scene, and now poor Brian has to explain your behavior to strangers. How many more times must he apologize for you, Viola? How much more can you put him through?"

Brian stepped out of the elevator when it reached the lobby, careful not to disturb Vanessa. "Viola, we're leaving. Come now or find your own way home."

"I'm staying," I whispered, still trying to scoop the ashes into the broken urn.

Brian shrugged. "Suit yourself."

I stayed behind, trying to salvage what little I could of my parents' remains, but it was useless. Most had disappeared between the elevator cracks or been trampled into dust. Eventually, I dragged myself out of the hospital and took a cab home.

The apartment was quiet when I arrived. I went straight to our bedroom and pulled out my largest suitcase. Enough was enough. I couldn't take this anymore.

I was folding the last of my clothes when I heard the front door open.

"Viola? Are you home?" Brian called out.

I wiped my tears quickly and stepped into the living room. Brian was alone, his face arranged in an expression of concern.

"Baby, I'm so sorry about what happened," he said, rushing to embrace me. "I should have been more understanding. I know how much that urn meant to you."

I stood stiffly in his arms, not returning the hug.

"You're still upset, I can tell," he sighed, pulling back to look at me. "But it was just a vase, Viola. We can get you another one. A better one—gold-plated, even! Your parents would want you to move on."

Before I could respond, his phone rang. He stepped away to answer it.

"Hey, what's up?... Yeah, she's here... Did she what?... Her stupid ashes?" His voice dropped to a whisper, but I could still hear him. "Don't worry about it. I'll handle her."

He hung up and turned back to me with a plastered smile. "That was Vanessa. She's feeling much better now and wanted to apologize about your vase. Isn't she considerate? You'll forgive her, right?"

"I've already forgiven her," I lied.

"Great!" Brian clapped his hands together. "Listen, there's this party tonight at The Sapphire. Let's go—it'll help clear your head. I want to make everything up to you."

Two hours later, we arrived at what was clearly not a small get-together but an elaborate event at a luxury hotel. The moment we walked in, I noticed people staring at us—or rather, at me.

"Your dress looks familiar," a woman whispered to her friend. "Isn't that the same pattern Vanessa is wearing?"

"God, she's such a copycat," another person murmured. "No wonder he's clinging to Vanessa instead."

"I heard she can't even keep her job," someone else said. "That's why he's paying for everything."

"She's so plain next to Vanessa. Like a cheap knockoff."

"I heard she trapped him after his best friend died."

I looked down at my dress—a simple blue design Brian bought at a department store. As we moved further into the hall, I spotted Vanessa wearing an identical dress, except hers was clearly designer, with good beadwork and superior fabric. I suddenly realized why Brian had insisted I wear this particular dress.

"You knew," I whispered to him. "You knew she'd be here wearing the same dress."

Brian's grip tightened on my arm. "Don't start. We're here to have fun."

Vanessa spotted us and rushed over, greeting Brian with a lingering kiss on the lips.

"Thank God you made it! Thank you for helping me decorate this hall earlier for my birthday."

Birthday? I turned to Brian in confusion.

Vanessa hugged me next, her expensive perfume suffocating. "Thank you for coming, Viola. It means so much to have you here!"

So while I had been mourning my parents' ashes, Brian had been here helping Vanessa decorate for her birthday party. He'd told me we were going for a simple night out—not that we were attending the birthday celebration of the woman who had pushed me through a glass table this morning.

I watched in horror as Brian wrapped his arm around Vanessa's waist. "You look stunning tonight," he whispered, loud enough for me to hear.

Vanessa giggled, pressing herself against him. "You already told me that when you helped me zip up this dress."

I stood there, invisible, as they continued their intimate conversation. When Brian's hand slid down to Vanessa's waist, pulling her closer, I walked away toward the bar.

"Vodka, neat," I told the bartender, fighting back tears.

"Make that two."

I turned to find Vanessa standing beside me, a cruel smile playing on her lips.

"You know, Viola," she said, taking the drink from the bartender, "I've always wondered what Brian saw in you. You're so... ordinary."

"What do you want from me, Vanessa?"

"I want you gone." Her smile disappeared. "Brian and I have been together for over a year now. The only reason he hasn't left you is because he feels sorry for you—poor, orphaned Viola with nowhere to go."

"You're sick, Vanessa."

Her eyes flashed with rage. "And you're pathetic. Still hanging on when he's made it clear who he wants."

She picked up a glass of red wine. "Here's a little birthday gift from me to you."

Before I could move, she tipped the glass, spilling wine all down the front of my dress.