That dress cost less than a glass of the champagne served upstairs, and Emily Carter was well-aware of that fact.
Daniel was aware of it too, and that was precisely why he had clenched his jaw when they had walked out of the house together. The dress was navy blue. Simple. No designer tag inside the neckline, no diamonds to glimmer under the light, and no bold split going up from the leg. It was merely a simple dress with a small stitched tear on its lower half.
She loved it nonetheless.
Because Rosa Bennett had seen that particular shade of blue and declared it dignified.
Rosa, the poor South Dallas widow with rough hands and an enormous heart who had taken in a nameless homeless girl, loving her far more than any wealthy family in this hall ever could. Emily still missed her desperately. Especially on nights like tonight.
Outside the hotel, Daniel shut the door to his black Aston Martin and threw the keys to the waiting valet. His gaze wasn’t on the car. It was on Emily, and he assessed her with a fierce wave of embarrassment.
He shifted the Rolex gold watch around on his wrist and spoke in the cold, clinical tone typical of him whenever he was frustrated. He reminded her how important that evening was to him. There would be many important people upstairs – politicians, businessmen, but above all his billionaire boss.
Emily told him she was only there for his sake.
She was making a big mistake.
Daniel gave a sharp, breathless laugh as his eyes traveled to the gold lights of the entrance where women covered in diamonds were ascending the stairs. “That dress,” he whispered, his voice full of scorn. “You look like catering staff.”
The insult stung. Not because it came as a shock to her. But because it did not.
During the early days when they first started dating, Daniel would not stop bragging about how “refreshing” Emily was. She was working at a small nonprofit medical clinic at that point, providing assistance to poor people who found themselves struggling within an oppressive healthcare system. He would often tell her that her integrity was refreshing. He used to describe rich women as being performative, draining, and insincere.
She believed him at first.
But the ring went on her finger, and soon enough, that admiration became a harsh editing process.
Talk less during dinner.
Avoid speaking about the foster system.
Get rid of your Texas accent.
Smile less.
Each of these corrections was delivered with a smile, packaged within the “helpful advice” deception, which only served to make the viciousness all the more unbearable. When they entered the marble floor of the ballroom, Emily could recite the story perfectly. Decorative if it helps him in his job; invisible at all other times.
She didn’t move until he had opened both doors and whispered, “Stay around the kitchen or the toilets.” His gaze swept across the room as he spoke, searching for someone else to talk to besides her. “And don’t mention anything about being my wife.”
Emily stopped in her tracks.
Unconsciously her hand reached for the smooth, silver necklace hanging around her neck. Half a small sun, and the only thing Rosa had left her with.
“You were so tightly holding on to that silver sun your knuckles were turning white while pulling you from the fire,” Rosa told Emily at the hospital.
Fire, scar, piece of silver. This was all there was to Emily’s past.
As soon as he entered, Daniel changed. All of a sudden, he started smiling ear to ear and turned into a loud, back-slapping politician working the room with a desperate hunger for approval.
Emily headed towards the dessert table with her club soda, pretending not to see her husband’s intense stare.
And then the music died down.
The massive oak doors swung open, and in came Richard Kensington with his sister, Eleanor, and an entire army of security personnel behind him. At seventy-two, with the power of centuries-old money and brutal business strategies at his disposal, Kensington had the power to ruin anyone’s career over breakfast.
Daniel almost ran across the hall to reach him.
Watching from far away, Emily saw Daniel nod wildly, laughing along at some jokes she knew couldn’t have been that funny. However, Richard interrupted his statement mid-way, looking around and then saying, “Where is your wife, Daniel?”
There was panic all over Daniel’s face. “I, well she is a little too shy for such elite occasions. So I thought maybe she could help us out with the event,” he lied terribly.
Emily came forward, standing tall with her back straight in spite of her embarrassment.
“This is Emily,” said Daniel, putting himself in between them. “She is helping out here today.”
Emily extended her hand, but Richard didn’t take it.
Instead, he stiffened like a statue with his eyes fixed on the broken silver sun around Emily’s neck. The blood left Richard’s face in an instant as if he was having a stroke, whereas Eleanor exclaimed and clapped her hand to her shaking mouth.
Totally oblivious of the changing atmosphere, Daniel tried to make light of the situation. “Forget about the necklace, Mr. Kensington,” he chuckled. “I’ve been trying to get her to take this cheap thing off for ages.”
It was the fatal error which Daniel made. With even more pressure, he hissed, “Return to your corner, Emily. You’re embarrassing me.”
“Let go of her,” Richard snapped.
Richard’s voice rang in the silent hall like a gun shot. Daniel took back his hand, moving away, shocked.
The older man moved forward, staring at Emily, as though she were a specter before him, with tears flowing from his eyes. “How… where have you gotten this necklace?”
Pounding heart, Emily recounted her only tale: the fire, the orphanage, Rosa, the silver that had been in her hand when the smoke cleared.
Eleanor said nothing, but with trembling hands, brought forth from under her blouse a chain on which hung the other part of the silver sun.
A gasp ran through the room as Richard took the two halves in his shaking hands, which snapped neatly into place.
Daniel tried to make some comment; his grin was strained. “Well, I mean, jewelry like this – it’s all factory-made stuff, isn’t it?”
Eleanor’s icy stare shut him up. She turned Emily’s necklace over, showing the inscription on the back – E.K. – My light will always come back.
Richard cried out, falling to his knees before everyone in the room, including the man responsible for turning Emily into someone else over the past few years. “My daughter,” he murmured. “Elizabeth.”
As everyone else started yelling, Eleanor embraced her, crying about a car crash thirty years ago, when people informed them that their baby girl was dead, while they had buried an empty coffin.
All of a sudden, Emily felt a hand grab her waist.
There was no more shame in his expression; instead, only the naked desire to get more from her. It was obvious to see the math working in his mind as he addressed everyone. “I always knew she was something special,” he shouted into the microphone with a huge smile. “My beautiful wife, I’ve always been proud of her.”
Emily backed away from him sharply, leaving his arm flapping in thin air. Now, she understood what Daniel truly was—small and hollow, someone who would abuse anyone to gain even an inch.
“An hour ago, you were ashamed of me,” she said.
Daniel froze. “Emily, my love, we need to speak alone—”
“You told me to hide by the restrooms,” she replied, her hand covering the silver sun. “You told me never to reveal that you were my husband.”
And that was the end of Daniel, and the new chapter for Emily.
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