76

76

Nina's POV

The room was thick with tension, and the air practically buzzed with unspoken accusations. I felt the weight of every gaze on me, each one heavy with doubt, suspicion, or outright contempt. Jasper’s smirk only added fuel to the fire, and I clenched my fists beneath the table, willing myself to stay calm. His smug expression seemed to scream, Gotcha, and I hated how easily he could rile me up.

I glanced at Shirley, her brows furrowed in disbelief as she looked between me and the porcelain bowls. For someone who had just declared us friends, her face now carried traces of betrayal and skepticism. Her words echoed in my ears: One of them has to be fake.

I forced a smile, though my heart hammered against my chest. "Shirley, you don’t understand. I—"

"Wait a second," she interrupted, her voice trembling with a mix of frustration and curiosity. "Antiques like these are supposed to be rare and unique. Then how are there two sets of Ru ware bowls that look almost identical?"

A murmur of agreement rippled through the guests, and Shirley crossed her arms, her face twisted in confusion. “If Uncle Trump were here, he’d know. He’s an expert in antiques and could tell us if something fishy is going on.”

I nodded, trying to keep my expression neutral even as the pit in my stomach deepened. My gaze flicked to the shattered remains of the bowls on the floor—my bowls. The very ones I’d painstakingly sourced and customized, spending sleepless nights ensuring they were perfect for this occasion. Seeing them destroyed felt like a dagger through my chest.

"Also," Shirley continued, her voice gaining momentum, "one of these sets has to be fake. We just need to figure out which one."

Her words hung in the air, an unspoken challenge to everyone in the room.

"No need to appraise them," Mr. Maxwell interjected, his tone sharp and dismissive. He strode forward, picking up Jasper’s bowl with an air of authority. "This one is obviously authentic."

My stomach dropped as he glared at me. His voice rose with anger. "You! How dare you try to deceive us with this cheap forgery?"

I opened my mouth to protest, but before I could utter a single word, Jasper’s laughter filled the room. It was cold and cruel, like shards of ice slicing through the tension.

"Are you sure there’s no misunderstanding here?" Mrs. Santiago asked, her voice trembling as she looked between Mr. Maxwell and me.

"No, Grandma, there’s no misunderstanding," Jasper replied confidently, a triumphant gleam in his eye. "This woman brought a fake antique to your birthday celebration. Trust me, I’d never stoop that low."

I felt the heat rise to my cheeks as I clenched my jaw. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. I wasn’t going to give Jasper the satisfaction of seeing me break.

Mr. Maxwell didn’t hesitate. He grabbed my bowl from the table and hurled it to the ground with a resounding crash. The sound echoed through the room, and I flinched, my hands instinctively rising to my mouth.

"Trash," he sneered. "How dare you bring this rubbish here?"

Before I could respond, Jasper grabbed his own bowl and smashed it against the floor as well. Shards of porcelain scattered everywhere, glittering like broken promises under the chandelier's light.

"Please, stop!" I cried, my voice cracking as I stepped forward. "That bowl cost me millions of dollars! It’s real—I swear it’s real!"

Jasper smirked, leaning back against the table with an air of victory. "Sure it did," he said mockingly. "You’re just a liar trying to play in leagues far above your station."

I turned to Shirley, hoping for some kind of support, but her face was a storm of conflicting emotions. She stepped closer to me, her voice low but filled with disappointment. "Nina, I thought we were friends. How could you lie to us like this? I trusted you."

Her words cut deeper than I expected. "Shirley, I’m not lying," I whispered, my voice trembling.

But she didn’t seem to hear me. With a determined expression, she picked up her own plate and smashed it to the ground, adding to the growing pile of destruction.

I stared at the shards, my heart breaking along with them. My carefully planned gift, the symbol of my effort and thoughtfulness, was now nothing more than a pile of rubble.

Mrs. Santiago’s voice rose above the chaos, sharp and commanding. "What on earth is going on here? This is my birthday, and you’ve turned it into a circus!"

"Grandma," Mark interjected, his voice calm but firm, "I know this looks bad, but I promise you, Nina is telling the truth."

Mark stepped closer to me, his hand finding mine and squeezing it gently. His touch was the only thing grounding me in that moment, and I blinked back tears as I looked up at him.

"Mark, you don’t have to defend me," I said softly, my voice barely audible. "They’ve already made up their minds."

"No," he said firmly, his eyes blazing with determination. "I won’t let them treat you like this."

I took a deep breath, summoning every ounce of courage I had left. "Fine," I said, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside me. "Believe whatever you want. But just know this—I spent millions on that gift, and I didn’t come here to deceive anyone. If you choose to destroy it without a second thought, that’s on you. I just hope you don’t regret it later."

The room fell silent, the weight of my words hanging heavy in the air. Just then, the front door creaked open, and a voice boomed through the room.

"Sorry I’m late," the man said, his tone cheerful yet commanding. "Happy birthday, sister. I hope you get everything you wish for."

All heads turned as Uncle Trump walked in, his presence instantly commanding respect. He strode forward, embracing Mrs. Santiago warmly before turning his attention to the rest of us.

"Did I miss anything?" he asked, his sharp eyes scanning the room.

I couldn’t help but smile, relief flooding through me like a tidal wave. Finally, someone who could see through Jasper’s lies. Someone who could vindicate me.

"Uncle Trump," I said, my voice steady but laced with a hint of desperation, "you couldn’t have picked a better time to arrive."

He raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "Oh? Well, then. Let’s see what’s going on, shall we?"

As he moved toward the table, all eyes were on him. The tension was palpable, and for the first time all night, I felt a flicker of hope.

This wasn’t over—not by a long shot.