Memo of Dazzling Starlight
Chapter 2
“Just who do you think you are? Do you even know who owns this place? My brother! I’m his own sister! How dare a mere manager speak to us like that?”
For a split second, Cynthia’s expression faltered—then hardened into something even colder. She threw her head back and laughed, as if she’d just heard the joke of the year.
“Your brother? Sweetheart, save your fantasies for bedtime. Mark built this place from the ground up. He’s my man. What back alley did you crawl out of, you desperate little climber?”
Mark.
She said my husband’s name with such easy intimacy that my heart plummeted.
Ruth trembled with rage, lifting her phone. “You’re lying! I’m calling him right now!”
In an instant, Cynthia’s face darkened. She stepped forward, snatched the phone from Ruth’s grasp, and—before either of us could react—flung it into the ice bucket beside us.
A sharp clink. The latest model sank into the ice and champagne, its screen going dark.
“Ah! My phone!” Ruth shrieked.
“It’s just a phone. Don’t be so dramatic.”
Still unsatisfied, Cynthia fished the phone from the ice, hurled it to the floor, and ground her stiletto heel into the screen.
Crack. The glass shattered completely.
“Satisfied now?”
She glared at us, her eyes brimming with triumph. “Get out, or I’ll call security.”
Nearby diners had turned to stare, whispering and pointing. Tears welled in Ruth’s eyes—a humiliating mix of fury and helplessness.
I steadied her, forcing myself to stay calm. This was no longer about service. Something was deeply off about this woman.
My gaze drifted downward, landing on her wrist.
A bracelet dangled there: a platinum chain with a blue diamond pendant, encircled by smaller diamonds—like a star surrounded by its own tiny galaxy.
My breath caught.
I knew that bracelet.
The Echo of the Stars. Mark had bid a fortune for it at Sotheby’s a year ago. He’d said it was my anniversary gift, for our fifth.
He’d even shown me its twin, smiling as he told me, “This one’s yours, sweetheart. And this one’s for our future daughter. When she arrives, you two can wear a matching set. Won’t that be perfect?”
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