Chapter 4 - Blue Balloons and False Hopes
With three weeks remaining until the wedding, Vivian Sterling decided to throw a massive gender reveal party. She rented out the rooftop terrace of the Standard East Village. The theme was ""An Empire Resurrected,"" a tasteless nod to Grant’s supposedly new and improved life.
I wasn’t invited, of course, but social media ensured I had a front-row seat.
Celeste wore a form-fitting baby-blue dress that proudly displayed her twenty-week bump. Grant stood beside her, his chest puffed out, wearing a matching blue tie. Vivian paced through the crowd of New York’s secondary elite, bragging loudly about the Sterling legacy.
“My son is finally getting the heir he deserves,” Vivian announced in a video posted by one of her socialite friends. “A real Sterling boy to take Vanguard to the global stage. It’s a blessing when nature corrects a mistake.”
The ""mistake"" she was referring to was Lily.
I watched the video while holding Lily in my arms. She was growing beautiful, with bright, curious eyes and a soft, easy laugh. She looked nothing like Grant, thank God. She had my father’s jawline and my mother’s gentle eyes.
“They’re going to release the balloons now,” my mother said, sitting next to me on the sofa. She looked at the screen with a mixture of disgust and pity. “How can a man be so blind to his own biology?”
“When a man’s ego is his master, he only sees what flatters him,” I said.
On screen, Grant and Celeste pulled the strings of a massive black box. A flurry of blue balloons erupted into the sky, accompanied by a shower of blue confetti. The crowd cheered. Grant picked Celeste up and spun her around, kissing her deeply. Marcus stood in the background of the shot, clapping politely with a smirk that reached his eyes.
That evening, I received a text message from an unknown number. It was an image of the blue balloons, followed by a message: “Some people are born to build empires. Others are born to watch from the sidelines. Be smart. Don’t cause trouble at the wedding, and Grant might actually pay your rent next year.”
It was Celeste’s burner number.
I didn't reply. Instead, I forwarded the screenshot to Daniel.
“Add this to the harassment file,” I instructed. “And tell our attorneys to prepare the eviction notice for the penthouse. I want it served precisely at 6:00 PM on the night of the wedding.”
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Daniel replied immediately: “Consider it done. The movers are already on standby to pack his things. He won’t even have a toothbrush to his name by midnight.”
I set my phone down and leaned over Lily’s crib, smoothing her soft hair. “Soon, my sweet girl,” I whispered. “Soon, everyone will know exactly who you are.”
