Chapter 8 Red Wine and Rivalries
Elena looked at her sister's name in trepidation and then picked up with shaky hands.
“Where are you?” Eva snapped immediately. “When are you coming home?”
Elena closed her eyes. “Eva, please. Not now.”
“Don’t you dare do this,” her sister said sharply. “We need to talk about the divorce.”
Elena rubbed her temple. “We’ve already talked about this. I explained everything. Why I had to marry Julian, why all this is necessary.”
“I don’t care,” Eva shot back. “I don’t care about your reasons or your sacrifices. I don’t care if the family collapses. You’re divorcing him.”
Elena’s chest tightened. “Can we not do this today? Please?”
“You’re choosing him over us,” Eva hissed. “Over your own blood.”
“That’s not true.”
“Then prove it,” Eva snapped. “Divorce him or you’ll regret it. He is mine.”
Then before she could say a word, the line went dead.
Elena stared at the screen for a long moment, then lowered the phone slowly.
She sighed deeply, washed her hands, and splashed water on her face.
Her sister hadn't changed one bit. Even after sacrificing her life for a family she had just found out wasn’t biologically hers, she couldn't get any credit.
Eva wanted it done her way, or she'd make a fuss.
“Okay, I can't think about this now," Elena muttered, thinking of the fact that she was adopted, something she wasn't ready for.
Get through the afternoon, she told herself. Just get through this.
She turned to leave and nearly collided with someone.
“Well, well.”
Elena froze.
It was the brunette from earlier.
Camille.
Up close, her smile was condescending, and her eyes openly hostile.
“How did you force him to marry you, bitch?” she hissed.
Elena froze and took a shaky step backward, trying to put distance between herself and the woman. “I didn’t force anyone,” she responded bravely.
Camille laughed and moved forward, cutting off Elena’s path to the door.
Elena instinctively stepped back, her back pressing against the cool bathroom tiles.
“You think I don’t know what you’re doing?” Camille’s voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. “How did you get him?”
Elena held her chin up even as she was beginning to shake.
"Was it blackmail? Pregnancy? What tricks did you use to get his attention?”
Elena was trying to keep her voice calm. “I don’t want trouble.”
Camille’s nostrils flared. “Trouble? You think that’s what this is? You think you can waltz in and claim Julian like it’s yours? Don’t forget, I’ve been in his life long before you ever appeared.”
Elena’s hands rose defensively. “I’m not trying to steal anyone. Julian married me already. I don’t want a fight.”
Camille tilted her head, a smirk tugging at her lips. “Oh, sweet, naïve little Elena. You think he loves you?” She laughed bitterly. “He doesn’t. He doesn’t even like you. He thinks you’re plain and boring and unflattering.”
Elena’s heart sank, but she straightened herself. “I don’t care.”
“You’re so sure of yourself,” Camille said, stepping closer. Her tone was venomous, almost gleeful. “But let me tell you something. I am prettier. I am smarter. And I deserve Julian. And I will make sure you pay for thinking you could ever take him.”
Elena swallowed hard but said nothing.
Camille’s lips curled into a cruel smile. “You’re the weak little girl he married because he didn’t have a choice. But me?” She stepped closer, almost brushing Elena’s shoulder. “I have power, influence, and connections. I can make sure you don’t get the last laugh, ever.”
“Isn't that too late? He's mine already,” Elena said and lifted the ring to her face.
Camille laughed again, a sound that echoed off the bathroom walls. “Of course, of course. But you should know, little Elena, that I’ll always win. Julian may have married you, but I,” she stopped, smirk widening, “I own a very powerful network. Everything I want, I get. And you? You’ll just be an obstacle I remove quietly.”
Elena cocked her head and replied, “Whatever.”
Camille snorted indignantly. “We’ll see about that.” Then, without warning, she turned on her heel and strode out of the bathroom.
Elena exhaled shakily, leaning against the sink.
She washed her hands again and tried to calm her racing heart. “Just stay calm,” she muttered to herself.
Then after a few minutes of breathing slowly, she pushed the door open and stepped out, only to freeze again.
A waiter had appeared from nowhere, balancing a tray of red wine. Elena tried to step aside, but he collided with her, the wine tipping over her silver dress.
“No!” she gasped, jumping back as the liquid soaked the fabric completely. Her hands flew up instinctively, pressing against the wet fabric.
The waiter apologized, flustered, but she barely heard him. She glanced quickly to the left, and her stomach dropped.
Camille stood there, arms crossed, with a smirk plastered across her face.
She had watched the entire incident, clearly enjoying Elena’s shock. A small wink accompanied the smile before Camille turned and walked away, leaving Elena mortified.
“I can’t believe this,” Elena whispered, hands pressed against the soaked dress, her heart pounding. “Of course, it had to happen now.”
Seconds later, Julian appeared. His eyes immediately took in the dress. “Elena? What happened?” His voice was calm.
“Someone bumped into me,” she said quickly, forcing her voice steady. “It’s nothing.”
He reached for his jacket and draped it over her shoulders. “We should go back,” he said.
“But what about the banquet?” she asked, glancing around nervously, cheeks still hot from embarrassment.
He shook his head. “It’s not so important. They will call me with the details later. Let’s just leave.”
Elena nodded, letting him guide her through the crowded hall.
The photographers had already noticed her, and the camera flashes popped sporadically as Julian led her away from the hall.
“Does this have anything to do with your shotgun wedding, Mr. Julian?" a member of the press was bold enough to ask as they got to the car.
“Is your new wife pregnant?"
But Julian harshly spat, “No comments," as he led her into the car, and the engine roared to life as the driver sped off.