LAYLA.
Celine.
I knew all about her, i had heard all the rumors about her and Nathan. I had seen the paparazzi photos of them at intimate dinners, on red carpets. They had even landed on some list for the hottest couples. That was the person my son had just run to. A million thoughts were swirling in my head.
i watched as Alex's cold gaze sliced right through me, as if I were invisible air. But that was not at all what shattered me.
No, the real dagger twisted in my gut when i watched Aven all smiles as Celine held him. As he wrapped his arms around her neck and laughed that melodic laugh it grated on my nerves. He hadn't greeted me with half that enthusiasm, no beaming smile, no excited squeal. Just a sullen pout. Yet here he was, chattering away with this woman like she was his sun, his moon, his entire world.
A venomous envy coiled in my chest, hot and unrelenting. How dare she? How dare this overdressed intruder waltz in and steal my son's affection with nothing more than a crimson gown and a perfect smile? I had flown across the country, slaved over decorations, smuggled in the impossible mascot ,all for him. And all Celine needed ti do was just show up.
Marcia swooped in then, her face transforming in a way I had never witnessed. She enveloped Celine in a warm hug, her lips curving into a genuine smile that lit up her usually menacing features. "Celine, darling! You made it. And looking radiant as always." Marcia's voice dripped honey, a stark contrast to the acid she'd spat at me earlier. The maids hovered nearby, beaming like Celine was royalty.
I stood frozen, resentment bubbling as Celine tousled Aven's curls with casual affection, like she'd done it a thousand times. She handed him a sleek box wrapped in glittering paper, and his eyes widened like saucers. He tore into it with frantic little fingers, revealing a state-of-the-art game console, the kind that cost more than my monthly salary at Savant Industries. Aven whooped, clutching it to his chest. "Celine! This is awesome!"
The room erupted in murmurs of approval. "What a thoughtful gift," someone cooed. My gifts sat forgotten in the corner, including the Whitey plush he'd barely glanced at.
Soon, the children were herded toward a towering cake adorned with blue-and-yellow frosting, Aven's favorites. Cameras flashed in a frenzy of posed photos, Aven front and center with his new console propped proudly beside the candles. I forced a smile from the sidelines as Celine and Nathan Joined in the photos, my cheeks aching, but inside, I seethed.
Then the butler cleared his throat at the ballroom's entrance, his voice booming with pomp. "Ladies and gentlemen, a special guest has arrived for the birthday boy."
Aven's head snapped up, eyes sparkling with expectation. The double doors flew open, and in bounded Whitey, the fluffy mascot from his favorite kiddies' show, all bouncy steps and oversized paws. The kids shrieked in delight as Whitey waved a giant mitten, leading them in silly dances and photo ops. Aven launched himself at the costume, wrapping his arms around the plush legs in a bear hug that made my heart swell.
'Beat that, Celine,' I thought triumphantly, a smug heat rising in my chest. I had pulled strings, bribed contacts, and done everything I could just to make this happen. No random could top that.
Whitey played with the children for what felt like an eternity of joyful chaos, then knelt to hand Aven a mini stuffed version of himself, soft, huggable, perfect. With a final wave and a muffled "Happy birthday!" the mascot exited to thunderous applause.
I basked in the glow, imagining Aven's bedtime stories featuring my gift forever. But then he bolted straight to Celine, console still in one hand, plush dragging behind.
"I know you brought Whitey to my party, Thank you!" he shouted, loud enough for the whole room to hear. "That's the best gift ever!"
My jaw went slack. The air sucked out of my lungs. Praising looks showered Celine, claps, nods, "How ever did you manage it?" All eyes on her, the conquering heroine.
I had done the work. I had secured Whitey. And Aven adored Celine for it? She hadn't lifted a finger, but apparently it had to be her. Fuming, I clenched her fists, nails biting into palms. I imagined how satisfying it would feel to walk over to her and pull her hair and i bit it down. So I swallowed the fire, waiting like a predator in the shadows.
The children finally scampered off to another playroom, herded by nannies and squealing with sugar highs. The adults mingled, champagne flutes tinkling. Seizing the moment, I inched toward Celine, plastering on a saccharine smile. There was no way i was going to let her get away with stealing my son's affection.
"Getting Whitey here must've been a nightmare," I said, voice laced with false admiration. "I hear he's booked solid, doesn't do just any party."
Before Celine could respond, Eloise, Alex's snide cousin who never tired of reminding me I was "beneath" the Savants jumped in like a guard dog. "That's no issue for Celine. She's a top influencer now, darling. Brands beg for collaborations. Doors open for her."
Eloise's eyes raked me dismissively, her designer earrings glinting like barbs. Celine was clearly the golden child, the one they all fawned over. I could see it in their postures, the subtle alliances forming around her. and that was aright, they could adore their little influencer. What i would not take was my son being used to bait me.
Celine smiled at me, sweet, porcelain-perfect, the kind that fooled the world. But I saw the calculation beneath, the smug flicker in her eyes. It turned my stomach.
"Except... Celine didn't actually get Whitey here, did she?" I shot back, my voice steady but edged with steel.
Eloise gasped. "What are you implying? Are you seriously going to make a scene on Aven's birthday?"
Nathan materialized at Celine's side, his broad frame shifting protectively in front of her, one hand brushing her elbow. The gesture hit like a slap. Intimate, instinctive. Something he'd never do for me. Mt heart twinged despite her resolve, a sharp reminder of where I stood: invisible, unwanted, unworthy.
Celine placed a gentle hand on Nathan's arm, her voice soft as silk. "It's understandable why Layla feels some type of way. What mother wouldn't want her gift to be the favorite?"
The room nodded, swayed by her angelic tone. They saw the soft beauty, not the scheming wife they'd long dismissed. Easier to believe her than the "downtrodden interloper."
"That's just the thing…" I started, heat rising.
"Enough, Layla!" Nathan snapped, his green eyes, mirror images of Aven's narrowing into slits. "Why must you make everything about you? Did you fly all this way just to stir up drama?"
My mouth, poised for rebuttal, snapped shut. The words died in my throat.
No point. Nathan never listened, never had. Years ago, I craved his love, clinging desperately through forced smiles and late-night hopes. But disillusionment had hardened me. Now, every effort read as attention-seeking, every glance a ploy. I was the villain in his story, the gold-digger who'd trapped him via his grandfather's whim.
"Excuse me," I muttered, voice barely above a whisper. I turned on her heel, fleeing the condemning stares boring into her back like lasers. Guests whispered, Marcia's scoff echoing faintly.
Desperate for air, I headed outside, but an ajar door to a side parlor snagged my attention. Voices small, piping ones drifted out. Children's voices. She froze, then stepped back, pressing against the wall to listen, heart pounding.
"Is that woman in the ugly clothes your mommy?" a little voice asked, curious and blunt.
"Why's Celine been bringing you to school, then?" another chimed in, giggling.
Aven's voice rang clear, unhesitating. "No, Celine's gonna be my mommy. That woman? She's not my mommy."
The words landed like a sledgehammer, cracking something deep inside me. I found myself slidding down the wall, silent tears carving hot paths down my cheeks. My son, the light of my life had just erased me.