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The Crescent on Her Shoulder / Chapter 2 / 15

Chapter 2: The Shattered Glass

The ballroom fell into a suffocating, pin-drop silence.

The socialites and corporate executives who had moments earlier sneered at the catering maid now stood frozen, witnessing the collapse of Victoria Sterling’s reign.

""Margaret, you are being hysterical!"" Victoria shrilled, taking a step back as whispers rippled through the pews of tables. ""She probably got that tattoo in some gutter in Brooklyn to con you!""

""Birthmarks do not bleed into the dermis like ink, Victoria,"" Margaret said, her voice resonant, steady, and carrying the unshakeable weight of an empress. ""And neither does the scar from the thoracic osteotomy performed by Dr. Harrison at Columbia Presbyterian twenty-two years ago.""

Margaret stood up, lifting Ellie with her. She removed her heavy silk evening shawl, wrapping it tenderly around the trembling girl’s shoulders, fastening it with her own diamond brooch.

She turned to the Chief of Security, who had arrived with four armed officers.

""Captain Miller,"" Margaret commanded with icy authority. ""Escort Ms. Sterling to the private security holding suite. Secure her purse and her vehicle. And search her personal coat.""

Within ninety seconds, the security officer pulled a six-figure diamond teardrop necklace from the inner zipped pocket of Victoria’s own designer evening coat—the exact necklace she had claimed Ellie stole.

Gasping erupted across the ballroom.

Victoria’s face turned an ugly, ash-grey color. ""It was a mistake! The maid must have slipped it in there to frame me!""

""You staged this scene because you knew I was rewriting the Vance family trust this week,"" Margaret stated, looking at Victoria with devastating clarity. ""You are stripped of all honorary board seats, all trust allowances, and all access to my properties. Get this deceitful creature out of my sight.""

Security marched Victoria out of the ballroom in full view of the press.

Margaret turned back to Ellie. She cupped the young woman’s face in her hands, wiping away the tears with her thumbs.

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""You will never kneel on a floor again, my child,"" Margaret wept softly. ""You are coming home.""

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