Chapter 1 - The Marble Floor
The heavy silk of the white high-necked gown swished against the polished white marble as Victoria Sterling dragged Sylvia across the floor of the grand hotel ballroom. Crystal chandeliers overhead cast a blinding glare on the scene, reflecting off the towering floral arrangements in their massive crystal vases. Around the room, high-society guests in tailored tuxedos and designer evening wear stood in frozen silence, their champagne flutes half-raised. Sylvia’s reddish-brown hair fell in tangled strands across her face, sticking to dried blood that traced a jagged path from a cut near her left temple down to her jawline. Her white tank top was smudged with soot and dust, and her grey jeans bore dark grass stains at the knees.
"Get out," Victoria said, her voice dropping into a harsh, controlled hiss that cut through the muffled murmurs of the crowd.
Sylvia gritted her teeth, her breathing shallow and ragged. "You have no right to do this," she whispered, her voice cracking slightly from dehydration and shock.
"Right?" Victoria spun around, her large diamond earrings catching the chandelier light like shards of ice. She pointed a manicured finger toward the wrought-iron double doors of the grand entrance. "People like you don't belong here. You hear me? Leave now."
Sylvia fell to her hands and knees against the cold stone. Her bruised and bloodied hand rested flat on the white marble, her knuckles scraped raw, dark crimson pooling against the pristine surface. She slowly lifted her gaze, her eyes narrowing as she looked up at the woman who had raised her, the woman who had just ordered her thrown out of her own family's centennial gala. With trembling fingers, Sylvia reached up and clutched the gold necklace resting against her collarbone, feeling the familiar, cold metal of the "SV" pendant. An intense wave of realization washed over her bruised features, chilling her blood far more than the draft from the open doors.
"You're making a mistake," Sylvia said, a pure, cold anger faulting beneath her bruised skin.
Victoria sneered, crossing her arms over her expensive gown. "The only mistake was letting you live this long."
Slowly, deliberately, Sylvia pushed herself up from the floor. Standing tall despite her injuries, she stared down the woman who commanded the room, looking up defiantly with her bruised face and bloody knuckles as the onlookers watched in stunned silence.
"This is my hotel," Sylvia said.
May you like
The heavy mahogany doors behind the crowd suddenly clicked shut, locked from the outside.
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