Slow Slow Song

At that critical moment, pushed to the brink, I felt all my composure and rationality shatter.

Clutching my daughter, I summoned every ounce of strength and screamed, my voice raw and desperate:

“Anthony, listen to me! My husband is your uncle! Do you hear me? My daughter is your uncle’s child!”

My words exploded like a thunderclap.

For a heartbeat, the entire ballroom fell into a dead, suffocating silence.

Every gaze swung toward me as if caught in a spotlight—first shock, then disbelief, soon twisting into naked ridicule and mocking laughter.

“Hahaha, did I hear that right? She said her husband is Anthony’s uncle?”

“Anthony’s uncle? You mean Matthew—the one running the family empire now? She’s lost her mind!”

“Exactly. A man like Matthew? He’d never look twice at some woman trying to claw her way up with a baby.”

“She’s clearly desperate. Just babbling nonsense now.”

Their laughter crashed over me like a tidal wave.

Anthony froze for a second, then his expression twisted into something even more contemptuous.

“Victoria, you’ve truly lost it.” He shook his head, pity dripping from his eyes. “To force my hand, you’d drag my uncle into this? Do you even know who he is? He despises women like you—manipulative, calculating. Did you really think I’d believe you?”

He was certain I was lying, making one last, pathetic stand.

“Security!” He gestured toward the door, pointing at me with condescending generosity. “Escort this woman out. We’ll pretend none of this happened today. Victoria—consider this the last shred of dignity I’m leaving you.”

Two guards approached, each seizing one of my arms. “Ma’am, this way.”

Holding Christina, I couldn’t move, engulfed by a humiliation and helplessness I’d never known. In my arms, she sobbed uncontrollably, her little body trembling with each gasp—breaking my heart.

Why? Why did I just want to live quietly, yet people kept tearing my world apart? Why did no one believe me when I told the truth?

Dragged by the guards, I stumbled toward the exit, my heels scraping shrilly against the polished marble.

Anthony stood unmoving, looking down at me with cold detachment. Violet scrambled up from the floor and joined him, her face a mix of relief and vicious triumph.

Watching them, I felt nothing but bitter irony.

Just as I was about to be hauled through the ballroom doors, a cool, penetrating voice cut through the noise from the entrance.

“Stop.”