Chapter 5 - The Coordinator’s Broken Mask
Tears spilled freely down my cheeks as I rested my hand on my son’s head, stroking his dark hair just as I had done when he was a frightened little boy.
“It’s alright, Benji,” I whispered. “You’re here now.”
Claire turned her gaze toward Victoria Vance, the high-society event coordinator.
“Miss Vance,” Claire said coldly, her tone dropping into a register of sharp corporate authority. “Did you or did you not tell Mrs. Hayes that her seat was in the back?”
Victoria smoothed her designer blazer with shaking fingers, attempting to summon an arrogant smile. “Claire, darling… you know the seating protocol for high-profile events. The photography team needed the front pews reserved for donors and VIP investors from your father’s board. We simply wanted the aesthetic of the wedding photos to remain… cohesive.”
Murmurs of absolute disgust rippled through the guests.
Two elderly women in the nineteenth row shook their heads in revulsion.
“Cohesive?” Claire repeated, stepping toward her. “You think a mother’s thirty years of sacrifice is an aesthetic flaw?”
Claire reached into the pocket of Victoria’s clipboard folder, pulling out the printed master seating chart.
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The gold-embossed place card for SARAH HAYES — MOTHER OF THE GROOM was crossed out with a red grease pencil, relegated to seat 24-D behind a concrete pillar.
“You didn't do this for the photography, Victoria,” Claire said, her voice amplified across the room. “You did this because your cousin Julian was furious that I chose an honest, hardworking architect over his bankrupt trust fund.”
