Chapter 5 Wedding Day Reckoning
The vineyard estate was exactly the kind of discreetly luxurious venue favored by Hollywood’s B–list–private enough for celebrities, showy enough for Instagram.
I purposely arrived late, slipping into the farthest corner just as the string quartet began Pachelbel’s Canon. The newlyweds were busy greeting guests, and the atmosphere was filled with light and laughter. The sweet, romantic vibe almost spilled over.
Champagne bubbles burst against my tongue, the acidity biting in a way that had nothing to do with vintage.
“Cecilia!” A voice, deliberately lowered but still tinged with excitement, called from beside me.
I didn’t need to look up to know who it was.
Suzanne was wearing a soft pink cocktail dress, demure yet undeniably expensive. The cut was perfect, making her look fresh and youthful. She carried two glasses of wine and naturally sat beside me, as if we were close, inseparable besties.
“Mason’s catching up with the groom, so he told me to come find you first.” She pushed one of the glasses of wine toward me, her smile sweet. “Cecilia, I really want to apologize for what happened with the studio last time. I was too rash, and Mason was so mad at me
afterward. I’ve learned my lessons.”
“This is for you, to apologize. I hope you’re not mad at me anymore, and please don’t be mad at Mason either, okay?” She blinked up at me, her big Bambi eyes innocent and pleading, her voice dripping with sincerity.
The liquid shimmered, untouched.
“I accept your apology,” I replied flatly.
My gaze drifted past her, locking on Mason, who was chatting with the newlyweds across the room. He looked striking in his tailored charcoal gray suit, standing tall in the crowd with an effortless, confident air as he talked and laughed.
It seemed he sensed my gaze because he turned toward me. Seeing that I was sitting with Suzanne he immediately broke into a relieved, almost reassuring smile and raised his glass from afar.
Ah, I bet he thinks that with Suzanne’s “apology” and me “accepting” her sitting next to me, everything is fine again between us. He’s probably feeling quite pleased with his role as mediator.
Suzanne tracked my stare, her smile sharpening even wider, the slightest hint of triumph in her expression.
“Cecilia, see? Mason is always so concerned about you. He checks on you every thirty seconds.” She leaned in a little closer, lowering
her voice to almost a whisper.
“Actually, Mason’s been under a lot of pressure lately. Between the Netflix deal and Wendy riding him about awards season, he’s barely
sleeping.”
“Cecilia, how’s work been for you lately?” She paused, then added, “If you’re too busy, I could help with some of Mason’s smaller tasks, so you don’t wear yourself out.”
Her words were supposed to sound caring, but each one felt like a subtle jab.
Before I could respond, Mason had already walked over.
He casually sat beside Suzanne forming an unspoken triangle–he next to Suzanne looking at me across her.
“What are you two talking about?” he asked, his tone light, almost coaxing. He reached over as if it were perfectly natural, intending to grab the glass of wine Suzanne had pushed toward me. “Suzie knows she made a mistake, so stop giving her the cold shoulder. It’s a wedding day. Wedding vibes only..”
His long fingers, the watch on his wrist reflecting a cold light in the dim room, were almost too sure of themselves.
Suzanne immediately leaned just slightly to the side to make room for him, her face displaying just the right amount of bashfulness and nervousness, as though Mason’s closeness made her unsure of herself.
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I watched as he extended his hand, and his expression said, “I’ve brought her here to apologize; what else do you want from me?” My
stomach churned.
He didn’t understand that Suzanne’s “apology” was an even deeper offense. Bringing her to such an important event with our mutual
friends was an unspoken declaration a form of humiliation.
“I’m fine,” I said, avoiding his hand.
–
I picked up my champagne and drank it all in one go.
The cold liquid slid down my throat, pushing away the discomfort in my gut.
“They’re finally getting married after all these years, so of course I’m happy for them.” I deliberately emphasized the words “all these –
years.”
Mason’s hand froze mid–air, his brow slightly furrowing, as if he thought I was still “throwing a tantrum” and not understanding the
bigger picture.
Suzanne immediately played the peacemaker.
“Yeah, the bride looks so pretty, and her wedding dress is gorgeous, I think it’s a Vera Wang. Mason, don’t you think?” She looked up at
him, her eyes full of admiration and dependence.
“Mm.” Mason responded dismissively, still looking at me, his gaze probing with a hint of impatience.
“By the way, Wendy asked about you yesterday. Why couldn’t she get through to you? You really need to take better care of yourself, no
matter how busy you are.” His tone was slightly reproachful, as though he genuinely cared about me.
Before I could respond, Suzanne suddenly exclaimed, “Oh no!”
Somehow, the glass of wine spilled, soaking the hem of her carefully chosen dress with a dark stain that spread quickly.
“I’m so clumsy!” She stood up hurriedly, her face turning bright red, looking flustered as she glanced at Mason, then at me. Her eyes immediately filled with tears. “I–I didn’t mean it… What should I do…”
Mason immediately stood up, grabbing a napkin to wipe the stain, his brow furrowed. “How could you be so careless?”
His tone held a mix of exasperation and an almost unnoticeable hint of affection.
He looked at me quickly and said, “Cece, you got spare clothes or-?” He looked around, clearly searching for a place to fix this.
The surrounding guests had all turned their attention toward the scene.
Suzanne bit her lip, on the verge of tears, clinging to Mason as if he were her only lifeline.
And I, sitting there as a cold bystander, said nothing.
“I didn’t bring anything,” I replied calmly, even picking up a napkin from the table to leisurely dab at the corner of my mouth. “But I’m
sure the estate has restrooms and drying facilities. As your assistant, she’s probably more accustomed to handling these things than I am. She should know all the protocols, right?”
I made sure to emphasize the word “assistant.”
Suzanne’s body stiffened imperceptibly.
Mason shot me a complicated look, a mix of disapproval at my “coldness” and pity for Suzanne’s “poor girl” act.
“Come on, I’ll take you.” He spoke softly to Suzanne.
Then, he glanced at me and said, “Wait me here for a while.”
I watched them walk off together. Mason slightly turned his body to shield Suzanne, while Suzanne clung to him, her dress stained with wine, now almost a badge of dishonor, marking the “victory” of this silent battle.
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Such a perfect picture of harmony.
I set my glass down and found an opportunity to say goodbye to the bride.
“Ah? Has Mason come?” the bride asked, surprised.
“It doesn’t matter. Today is your fairytale,” I smiled, my gaze sweeping over the couple rushing back–Mason’s face showing a bit of anxiety, while Suzanne had changed into a light blue dress, looking even more pitiful than before.
I turned and, without hesitation, melted into the deepening night outside the estate.
Behind me, I faintly heard Mason’s voice, raised with anger: “Cecilia! Where are you going?!”
I didn’t look back.
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Chapter 5 Wedding Day Reckoning
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