I had never worn a gown that sparkled like this, my dad did buy me beautiful dresses when I was little but this one was on another level.
Jessica had spent nearly an hour helping me get dressed, brushing out my hair and tying the little bow on my waist with so much care, you'd think I was about to walk into a castle. Maybe in some ways, I was. Or at least, it felt like it.
"You look beautiful, Mia," she said, smiling at me through the mirror.
I gave a small, shy nod, unsure how to feel. Tonight wasn't just dinner—it was something else. Something big. A celebration. Grandma.., decided to throw a dinner party in my honor just to welcome me into their family…, Amilia quickly accepted the idea, Grant protested a bit but he knew he wouldn't be able to overturn his mum's decision.
A new beginning. Amilia's family was welcoming me…, for the first in what felt like eternity..I was being treated as someone special.., it was the combination of mom and miss Cathy's care if not more.
Downstairs, the dining room had been transformed. Lights shimmered above a table dressed in white linen and gold cutlery. Flowers—real ones—lined the center in elegant glass vases. It looked like a picture from one of the magazines we never got to keep at the orphanage.
People were already seated, chatting, sipping wine, laughing.
Grant's mother stood at the head of the table, her poise commanding the room. Dressed in deep green silk and shining jewelry, she beamed the moment she saw me.
"There she is—my granddaughter," she announced proudly as everyone turned to look.
A wave of polite claps and warm smiles spread through the room. I froze mid-step, my heart pounding. All these people—watching, smiling, expecting.
Jessica nudged me gently. "Go on," she whispered.
Amilia stepped forward, taking my hand, and led me the rest of the way. "Everyone," she said, her voice radiant, "this is Mia. She's ours now."
More applause. Someone said I was adorable. Someone else said I looked just like Amilia. I didn't believe either of them, but I smiled anyway.
Amilia bent beside me and whispered, "You're doing great."
Across the table, I saw Colonel Grant raise his glass with a tight-lipped smile. "To the newest addition to our little family," he said, clinking glasses with a few guests. His voice was charming, but his eyes… they didn't match.
Dinner was… grand. That's the only word I could use. The table overflowed with meals I couldn't even name—steamed fish, roasted duck, creamy pastas, wine (which I obviously didn't touch), and desserts that looked too pretty to eat.
I sat between Amilia and Jessica, barely speaking, just soaking it all in—the music, the laughter, the warmth of belonging… even if I wasn't sure how long it would last.
The adults shared stories and toasted to "new beginnings." Amilia's friends complimented her glow. Grant's mother boasted about her lineage. Grant entertained his guests with exaggerated stories of military life.
But the more he drank, the less charming he became.
His laughter got louder. His jokes got sloppier. His eyes darted more often toward Amilia—hungry, possessive.
Then it happened.
I was reaching for a glass of water when I noticed Grant stumbling toward Amilia as she stepped into the hallway. He followed her like a shadow. No one seemed to notice—they were too busy laughing at some story about champagne in a helicopter.
Curious and concerned, I stood up quietly and walked toward the corridor, just far enough to hear but not be seen.
"You looked good tonight," Grant's slurred voice said. "That dress—makes me remember things."
Amilia's voice was firm. "You're drunk."
Then the sound. A light smack—not on her face. Lower. A disgusting kind of boldness.
"You still mine, remember?" Grant said, chuckling. "Just one night. One memory."
There was a shuffle, then a thud.
"I said no," Amilia snapped, her voice now razor-sharp. "You do that again, and I'll make sure you regret it. In every way."
Silence.
I pressed my back to the wall, breathing hard, my hands shaking. This wasn't just some story in a book. This was real.
Amilia came back into the dining room moments later like nothing had happened. Graceful, composed, smiling even.
But I could see the fire in her eyes.
And I knew one thing for sure now—Amilia was not someone to mess with.
Grant's eyes locked onto mine, and I could see the intent behind his gaze. He began to make his way toward me, his steps slow but deliberate. Instinctively, I turned and hurried off, wanting no part of whatever he had in mind.
But even that brief moment couldn't dim the rest of the night. The celebration went on — music, laughter, dancing — and I found myself lost in the joy of it all. For the first time in a long while, I felt light… like the world had finally opened its arms to me.
Wrapped in the warmth of Amilia's care, a quiet question stirred inside me: *Is this what happiness truly feels like? And if it is… can it really last forever?