CHAPTER 3
He moved faster than I had ever seen him move.
The champagne glass slipped from his fingers.
Shattered against the stone patio.
No one made a sound.
Ethan crossed the lawn in three long strides, dropping to his knees beside me in the soaked grass. He didn’t care about his custom suit, didn’t care about the mud staining the fabric. He cupped my face in his hands, his thumb brushing away the water dripping from my cheek.
“Mom?” His voice cracked. “What did they do to you?”
The word hung in the air like a thunderclap.
Mom.
Vanessa staggered backward as if she’d been slapped. Her champagne flute clattered to the ground. The guests who had been laughing seconds earlier went deathly quiet. The man who had been filming lowered his phone, his face white.
“Mom?” Vanessa repeated, her voice shrill. “Ethan, what are you talking about? This woman is a homeless vagrant—she trespassed—”
Ethan spun toward her, his eyes blazing with a rage I had never seen before. He stood up, positioning himself between me and Vanessa, his body rigid with protectiveness.
“This is my mother,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “Helena Carter. This estate belongs to her family. Every brick in this house, every rose in this garden—she built all of it.”
A collective gasp rippled through the crowd.
Patricia Mitchell’s hand flew to her throat. George Mitchell’s face turned a sickly shade of gray. The guests who had mocked me moments earlier now stared at me with wide, horrified eyes. Some looked away, ashamed. Others whispered behind their hands, already replaying the scene in their heads, wondering how badly they had just ruined their own reputations.
Vanessa shook her head, denying it, denying me.
“No. No, you said your mother was traveling in Europe. You said she wouldn’t be back until next month—”
“I lied,” Ethan said sharply. “Because I wanted to surprise you. But you’re the one who gave me a surprise today, Vanessa. A big one.”
I slowly got to my feet, my knees stiff from the cold grass. I still clutched my grocery bag to my chest. The waiter who had tried to help me gave me a small, shaky smile. I nodded at him in thanks.
Vanessa’s eyes darted from me to Ethan, her mind racing to spin a lie, to salvage the moment. She forced a trembling laugh, stepping forward with her hands outstretched, as if she could fix this with a smile.
“Ethan, baby, I didn’t know. How was I supposed to know? She was dressed like that—she said she was looking for you, I thought she was some crazy fan—”
“She told you she was looking for Mr. Ethan Carter,” I said, my voice calm and steady. “You didn’t ask her name. You didn’t ask what she wanted. You grabbed a hose and you sprayed her like an animal. You called her homeless. You called her a vagrant. You threatened a boy who tried to help her.”
I opened my grocery bag, reached inside, and pulled out my phone. The screen was still dry, protected by the waterproof covering. I held it up for everyone to see. The red recording light blinked steadily.
“And I recorded every single second of it.”
Vanessa’s face went white. Then red. Then white again.
“You recorded me?” she shrieked. “You set me up! You came here dressed like that on purpose to make me look bad—”
“You made yourself look bad,” Ethan said, cutting her off. His voice was ice. “All you had to do was be kind. All you had to do was ask her what she wanted. That’s it. But you couldn’t even do that.”
He turned to look at me, his eyes filled with guilt and pain.
“I’m so sorry, Mom. I had no idea she was like this. I swear to you, I had no idea.”
I reached out and touched his arm.
“I know, baby. That’s why I came. I needed you to see it for yourself.”
Patricia Mitchell stepped forward, her voice shrill with panic.
“Ethan, let’s be reasonable. This was all a misunderstanding. Vanessa was just protecting the party—”
“Protecting the party?” Ethan laughed, bitter and sharp. “You stood there and laughed while your daughter assaulted my mother. You called her a thief. Don’t you dare stand there and call this a misunderstanding.”
George Mitchell found his voice, trying to regain control, trying to use the business tone he probably used on people he thought were beneath him.
“Mr. Carter, let’s take this inside. We can discuss this privately, away from the guests. There’s no need to make a scene—”
“No need?” I said, raising an eyebrow. “Your wife and daughter already made the scene, Mr. Mitchell. I’m just here to finish it.”
I looked out at the crowd of guests, most of whom I knew by name. Some were business partners. Some were old friends. They all looked back at me, waiting.
“This engagement is over,” I said, my voice clear and firm. “Effective immediately. Vanessa Mitchell will never marry my son. She will never set foot on any property owned by the Carter family ever again. Any business dealings between Carter Industries and the Mitchell Group are terminated, effective immediately.”
George Mitchell’s face twisted with fury.
“You can’t do that. We have contracts—”
“Contracts I will have my legal team dissolve by morning,” I said smoothly. “You’ll be lucky if I don’t sue you for trespassing, assault, and defamation. Now get off my property. All three of you. Before I have security escort you out.”
Vanessa let out a sob, rushing toward Ethan, grabbing his arm.
“Ethan, please, don’t do this. I love you. I made a mistake—”
Ethan wrenched his arm away from her like her touch burned him.
“You don’t love me. You love the name Carter. You love the money. You love the house and the parties and the status. If I was working at a gas station, you wouldn’t have looked at me twice.”
He nodded toward the driveway.
“Leave. Now. Before I change my mind about calling the police.”
The Mitchells left in a storm of fury and humiliation. Vanessa looked back over her shoulder, her eyes filled with a hatred that sent a chill down my spine. I knew this wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.
But for now, I turned to my son, and I pulled him into a hug. He held me tight, his shoulders shaking.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered again. “I’m so sorry I didn’t listen to you.”
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I stroked his hair, just like I did when he was a little boy.
“It’s okay, baby. We’re going to fix this. All of it.”
