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Nina's POV
The tension in the room was so thick it could be sliced with a knife. My heart raced as Uncle Trump, the man I was silently hoping would vindicate me, stepped into the room. His presence immediately commanded attention, and everyone—especially those who had accused me—seemed to shrink back, their earlier bravado replaced by uneasy smiles and nervous glances.
Uncle Maxwell, who had moments ago been shouting at me with such fury that veins bulged on his temple, now forced a wide, almost grotesque grin. His voice took on a syrupy tone as he addressed Trump.
“Oh, Trump, you’re finally here! How could you forget your sister’s birthday and arrive so late? We’ve been waiting for you,” he said, attempting to sound jovial. But the sweat on his forehead betrayed his nerves.
Trump chuckled dryly, his sharp eyes narrowing at Maxwell. “Forget? Maxwell, I didn’t forget. I’m here now, aren’t I?” His voice was calm, but there was an edge to it that made everyone flinch.
My gaze darted to Jasper, who swallowed audibly, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he stood frozen. His usually cocky demeanor crumbled as Trump’s attention shifted to the gifts on the table. I caught the way Jasper’s fingers twitched, almost like he wanted to snatch his so-called gift off the table before Trump could inspect it.
Trump’s expression hardened as his eyes landed on the Ru ware bowls Jasper had proudly claimed as genuine antiques. He walked over to the table with deliberate steps, the sound of his polished shoes echoing ominously in the room. Picking up one of the bowls, he held it up to the light, his face a mask of disdain.
“What are these?” he asked, his voice dripping with contempt. He didn’t wait for an answer before turning to the room. “Throw this trash away. These aren’t even worth the dust on my shoes.”
A gasp rippled through the room. Shirley, Jasper’s accomplice in this charade, stepped forward, her face pale with shock. “Wait, Uncle Trump! I think you’re mistaken. That’s a birthday gift for Grandma. You can’t call it garbage!” she protested, her voice trembling.
Mark, sitting beside me, couldn’t suppress a sarcastic laugh. “Mistaken? Shirley, I think you’re the one who’s mistaken. You think you can pass off counterfeit garbage as an antique?”
Trump ignored the exchange, setting the bowl back on the table with a thud. He picked up another bowl and turned it in his hands. “Fake. This one too,” he declared without hesitation.
Jasper’s face turned red, and he stammered, “No, Uncle Trump, you don’t understand! I spent months finding this for Grandma. It’s real—I swear it is!”
“Months, you say?” Trump shot him a withering glare, holding the bowl up like it was a piece of junk. “This is something you can buy for $180 on Amazon. If you’re so fond of cheap things, Jasper, maybe you should keep this for yourself. But don’t you dare insult my sister with this garbage.”
I bit my lip, fighting the urge to laugh at the absurdity of it all. Jasper’s carefully constructed facade was crumbling fast. Shirley, standing beside him, looked like she wanted to crawl into a hole.
“No, no! Uncle Trump, look at these over here,” Jasper said desperately, gesturing toward the other bowls on the table. “I promise these are genuine!”
But Trump was already moving, his eyes scanning the room until they landed on me. He strode toward our table, and I felt Mark’s hand tighten around mine. My breath hitched as Trump picked up one of my bowls. The entire room seemed to hold its breath.
I stared at him, my nails digging into my palm as I tried to brace myself for his verdict. This was my moment of truth. If he declared my gift fake too, it would be the ultimate humiliation.
Trump raised the bowl, tilting it under the light. His expression shifted from irritation to intrigue, his brows furrowing as he examined it. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small magnifying glass, the kind experts use to inspect antiques.
“Oh, thank God, Uncle Trump! You scared me for a second there. I thought I had smashed a genuine one!” Shirley exclaimed, relief washing over her face.
Trump didn’t even look at her. He was too focused on the bowl in his hands. The room was dead silent except for the faint sound of his breathing. Finally, he looked up, his eyes meeting mine.
“This one,” he said, his voice firm, “is genuine.”
A wave of relief washed over me, and I felt my knees go weak. Mark let out a triumphant laugh, wrapping an arm around my shoulders.
Jasper, however, wasn’t ready to give up. “No, no! Uncle Trump, there’s been a mistake! Look at these ones over here,” he said, pointing frantically to his bowls.
Trump didn’t even glance at them. “No need, Jasper. This one is part of a rare set—six bowls in total. But I’m only seeing three on this table. Where are the rest?”
The question hung in the air like a bombshell. Jasper’s face turned ashen, and he opened his mouth to speak but no words came out. Maxwell shifted uncomfortably, avoiding Trump’s piercing gaze.
“Well?” Trump pressed, his tone demanding. “Where are the rest of the bowls?”
Nobody answered. The silence was deafening. Shirley looked like she might faint, her eyes darting between Jasper and Maxwell.
Trump’s lips curled into a cold smile. “Interesting. You claim these are authentic, yet the set is incomplete. Do you know what that tells me?”
Jasper shook his head, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.
“It tells me,” Trump continued, “that not only are these bowls fake, but you didn’t even bother to do your homework. You thought you could fool everyone here, didn’t you?”
I couldn’t stop the grin spreading across my face. Finally, someone was exposing Jasper for the fraud he was.
“Uncle Trump, I didn’t mean—” Jasper began, but Trump cut him off with a sharp wave of his hand.
“Save it. Your lies are as cheap as these bowls,” Trump said, dropping the fake bowl back onto the table with a loud clatter.
Mrs. Santiago, who had been watching the entire scene unfold in stunned silence, finally found her voice. “Enough! This is my birthday, and I will not have it ruined by this nonsense!”
She turned to Jasper, her eyes blazing with anger. “How dare you bring counterfeit gifts into my home and insult my intelligence? You owe me an explanation, young man!”
Jasper’s face crumpled, and he looked like he might cry. “Grandma, I didn’t mean to—”
“Save it!” she snapped, her voice cutting through his excuses like a whip.
I couldn’t help but feel a surge of satisfaction. For once, justice was being served, and I was no longer the one being accused.
Trump turned to me, his expression softening. “Nina, my dear, it seems you’re the only one here who truly understands the value of authenticity. Well done.”
I smiled, tears of relief threatening to spill from my eyes. “Thank you, Uncle Trump. That means a lot.”
Mark squeezed my hand, his eyes shining with pride. “I told you, Nina. The truth always wins in the end.”
As Trump placed my bowl back on the table, I caught the way Maxwell and Jasper exchanged panicked glances. This wasn’t over for them—not by a long shot. But for me, this was just the beginning of my vindication.