Chapter 10
The so-called engagement party that Aunt Grace had planned just for me?
A complete disaster.
The whole thing blew up, turned into gossip fuel for the rest of the Holt clan—especially the vultures from the other family branches who lived to see me fall on my ass.
But Aunt Grace, God bless her steel spine, didn’t hold it against me. Instead, she threw herself into planning my eighteenth birthday party—my official debut as an adult.
I stood outside her bedroom door, hand raised to knock, frozen in hesitation.
I felt like shit.
This woman had given me everything. And now I was just a walking scandal.
Before I could convince myself to run, the door swung open.
“Savannah?” she blinked, surprised. “Aren’t you supposed to be getting your makeup done right now?”
I nodded. “I… I was on my way.”
She gave me one long, knowing look.
“It’s not your fault,” she said softly. “I pushed too hard. I didn’t consider how complicated it must feel for you.”
She smiled gently. “You may not end up as my daughter-in-law, but you’ll always be my daughter.”
My throat tightened. I couldn’t even pretend to be composed anymore.
I broke.
I collapsed into her arms, sobbing like a kid.
She held me without flinching, smoothing my hair, whispering, “Easy now. No more tears. You’ll mess up your mascara.”
When I was finally done leaking from my eyeballs, she led me to the prep room herself, where the stylists were already waiting.
By the time I stepped into the ballroom, I was transformed.
Silhouetted in the spotlight, I felt like something out of a dream.
The dress clung in all the right places, the lighting hit my skin just right, and for one brief moment—everyone forgot I was just the maid’s daughter.
“Daaaamn. Didn’t know she could clean up that good.”
“Okay, I’ll give it to her. She looks expensive.”
“She’s giving rich bitch energy tonight.”
A cluster of girls surrounded me, gushing in fake-sincere voices.
“Savannah, you seriously look like a princess.”
I gave them a soft smile. “Thanks.”
Then came the voice that made my skin crawl.
“There you are, Savannah. Took me forever to find you.”
Bailey White.
Waltzing through the crowd like she owned the place, stilettos clicking on marble like gunshots.
She stopped right in front of me, gave me a slow, deliberate once-over.
“Wow,” she said, her lips curling. “Who knew a little bit of couture could turn trailer trash into a Vogue cover.”
“You almost pass for one of us.”
“Almost.”
