Chapter 2 - The Silver Medal in the Fountain“Give me that!” Julian barked, lunging forward with childish cruelty. “You probably stole it from the lost-and-found box!”
Before Wren could pull away, Julian’s fingers snagged the braided blue ribbon around her neck. He yanked it hard. The delicate fabric snapped with a sharp pop, scraping Wren’s collarbone.
“Stop! That’s mine! My dad gave it to my mom!” Wren cried out, tears spilling down her cheeks as she reached desperately for the silver disk.
“Your fake dad?” Carter mocked, grabbing the medal from Julian’s hand. He held it high above his head, turning toward the crowd of nearby wealthy parents who were casually sipping champagne and ignoring the cruelty unfolding beneath their noses. “Look what the charity case brought to the gala!”
Carter reared his arm back and hurled the silver medal directly into the center of the tiered marble fountain in the center of the atrium.
The heavy silver hit the water with a loud splash, sinking past floating white lotus blossoms straight to the bottom of the five-foot deep illuminated pool.
“No!” Wren shrieked, throwing herself against the cold marble rim of the fountain. Her little hands clawed at the water, but the pool was too deep, and the current from the filtration jets pushed the medal further toward the center drain.
A few socialites chuckled behind their silk fans.
“Whose child is that causing a scene by the fountain?” murmured Evelyn Vance, a prominent society matron standing nearby with her daughter Victoria. “Security should really vet the guest list more thoroughly.”
Maren broke through the crowd, her face pale with fierce maternal panic. She wrapped both arms around Wren, pulling her shivering daughter into her chest.
“Wren, baby, look at me. It’s okay,” Maren breathed, wiping Wren’s tears.
“Mommy, my medal... Daddy’s medal is at the bottom!” Wren sobbed into Maren’s shoulder. “They threw it in the water! They said I don’t belong here!”
Julian’s mother, Penelope Sterling, glided over in a floor-length emerald gown, glaring down at Maren with icy disdain.
“Excuse me,” Penelope sneered, adjusting her diamond cuffs. “Your daughter is creating a disturbance at a private five-thousand-dollar-a-plate charity event. If you cannot control your child’s emotional outbursts, you should take her back to public housing.”
“Your son assaulted my seven-year-old daughter and stole her property, Mrs. Sterling,” Maren answered, rising to her full height, her voice ringing with razor-sharp dignity. “Teach your child basic human decency before you lecture me about parenting.”
Penelope gasped in outrage. “How dare you speak to me like that! Guards! Have this woman and her brat escorted out through the service alley!”
Three armed private security guards moved forward, surrounding Maren and Wren.
The entire ballroom fell quiet as the spectacle drew hundreds of eyes. Wren buried her face in Maren’s dress, shaking with humiliation, convinced that her father was never going to come.
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Then, from the grand double staircase at the head of the ballroom, a deep, commanding voice resonated across the hall like a crack of thunder.
“If anyone touches that woman or her child, you will be in handcuffs before you reach the exit.”
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