Catherine’s POV
I had barely slept, the image of Julian sitting on the edge of my bed clashing with the reality of Lucy sleeping just a few doors away. I had spent the night rehearsing what I would say to her, how I would reclaim my space, but when I walked into the room, the air was sucked right out of my lungs.
She was already there, not just sitting at the table; but presiding over it. She was wearing a cream-colored silk blouse that I recognized instantly—it was one of my mother’s favorites, the one she wore to charity luncheons. Around her neck was a string of delicate, shining earls.
"Oh, Catherine! Good morning, dear," my mother said, looking up from a stack of gold-embossed invitations. She looked more energized than usual. "You’re just in time. Lucy has been such a help with the guest list for the Founders’ Gala. She has a much better memory for the local precinct captains than I do."
I froze at the entrance, my hand gripping the back of a chair. "The Founders’ Gala? Mom, you and I were supposed to do that this afternoon."
Lucy didn’t look up from the ledger she was marking. "The Senator mentioned that you’ve been under a lot of stress lately, Catherine. He thought it best if you had one less thing on your plate. After the... incident... and stuff, we wouldn’t want you overexerting yourself."
"This is none of your business, Lucy," I snapped, pulling out my chair with a sharp scrape. "And I don’t recall asking for your help with family business."
"Family business?" Lucy finally looked at me, a thin, patronizing smile on her lips. "Honey, I know this list better than anyone. I’m just making sure the right hands get shook."
"Mother," I said, turning to my mother, desperation leaking into my voice. "You can’t be serious. She’s a guest. Why is she handling the invitations?"
"Catherine, please," Lisa whispered, her eyes darting toward the door as if Richard might appear at any second. "She’s just being helpful. And she’s right, your father wants you to rest. He was very firm about it."
Rest. It was code for disappear. It felt like Richard was systematically stripping away my roles, replacing my presence with Lucy’s.
"You should listen to your mother," Lucy murmured, leaning in across the table. Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial level that didn’t reach Lisa’s ears. "Blood is thicker than water, Catherine, but secrets are thicker than blood. And I have enough of them to drown this entire house. Don’t make me start spilling."
"Must you always make a threat?" I whispered back, my heart hammering.
"It’s not a threat, It’s a weather report," Lucy smiled, picking up a piece of dry toast. "There’s a storm coming, and I’m the only one with an umbrella."
The door swung open, and the temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees. Richard walked in, followed closely by Julian. Julian looked furious. I could tell that father and son fight had gone down.
"Everyone is here. Good," Richard said, not bothering to sit. He stood at the head of the table. "I’ve made a decision regarding the gala on Saturday."
"I was just telling the girls—" Lisa tried to speak but Richard interrupted, ignoring his wife completely.
"Julian, the public needs to see a new side of you. They need to see that you are not who they think you are. You need to project empathy. Stability."
Julian stared at his coffee cup. "And how do I do that? By wearing a more expensive suit?" The words rolled out from his mouth with hatred.
"By appearing with someone who represents your journey," Richard said, placing a heavy hand on Lucy’s shoulder. "Lucy will be your social companion for the evening. We will present her as a success story of the Vaughn Foundation—a loyal friend who was supported through her own struggles and has now returned to the fold."
The sound of my fork hitting the china plate was like a gunshot. Social companion? Richard, that’s... that’s usually my role. Or Julian goes alone.
I looked at Julian, waiting for him to explode. Waiting for him to tell Richard to go to hell.
Julian’s knuckles were white where they gripped the table. "You want me to parade her around like a trophy? After she called me a thief in front of the cameras?"
"I already have a redemption arc planned out for this, Julian," Richard said, his voice hardening. "You will apologize to her publicly for the ’misunderstanding.’ She will accept. The cameras will capture the reconciliation. And the scandal from yesterday will vanish, replaced by a story of family unity and forgiveness."
"It’s a lie," I said, my voice shaking. "How can we just casually lie to the public?"
"In this world, Catherine, a lie told well enough becomes the truth," Richard replied. He checked his watch. "Make sure her dress is ready, Lisa. I want her to look like a million dollars. I want people to wonder why we ever let her go."
Richard walked out while Lucy beamed, her hand still resting on the spot on her shoulder where Richard had touched her. She looked at me, and the triumph in her eyes was so loud I could almost hear it.
"I’ll need to borrow those emerald earrings of yours, Lisa," Lucy said, her voice tinkling with fake joy. "They’ll go so well with the dress."
"Of course, dear," Lisa whispered.
I felt like I was being erased in real-time. My mother, my Julian—it was all being handed over to HER!
"Well," Gabriel said, breaking the suffocating silence. He had been sitting in the corner, focusing on sipping his hot cup of tea while still watching the drama like a spectator. He leaned forward, a crooked, desperate grin on his face. "This is certainly going to be the talk of the town."
He looked at me, then at Lucy, trying to catch someone’s eye. "Come on, guys. It’s just one night. We’ll get through the gala, drink some overpriced champagne, and then we can all go back to hating each other in private. Let’s just settle the differences and be... I don’t know, ’friendly’ for the cameras?"
The joke fell like a lead weight.
I turned my head slowly to look at Gabriel. My eyes were burning with fury. Lucy did the same, her smirk sharpening into a jagged blade.
"Shut up, Gabriel."
"You never have anything good to say!"
We both attacked him yet again.
Gabriel winced, holding his hands up in a gesture of surrender. "Right. No jokes. I’ll just... go see if the gardener needs help with the hedges."
He scrambled out of the room, leaving the three of us in a triangle of concentrated tension.
"I’m going for a walk," Julian said, standing up so abruptly he nearly knocked his chair over. He didn’t look at Lucy, and he didn’t look at me. He just walked out, his footsteps echoing down the hall.
I was left alone with Lucy. My mother had gone back to the invitations, her head down, her spirit crushed.
"You think you’ve won," I said, leaning toward Lucy across the table.
Lucy didn’t stop writing. She didn’t even blink. "I don’t think I’ve won, Catherine. I know I have. Richard doesn’t keep people he can’t use. And right now? You’re just a pretty picture on a wall he’s tired of looking at. I’m the one with the hammer."
She looked up then, her eyes cold and empty. "Enjoy the rest of your breakfast. I’d save the bacon if I were you. You might not be getting served much longer."
She stood up, smoothed out my mother’s silk blouse, and walked out of the room with the confidence of a queen. I sat there, staring at the empty chairs, the gold-embossed invitations, and the wreckage of my life.