The bright crystal chandeliers reflected off the white marble floor of the grand luxury ballroom. Clara adjusted the folds of her silk pink gown, her hands trembling slightly against her lap. Across the linen-covered table, Carter leaned over his champagne glass, his handsome face twisted into a cruel smile.
Carter: Look around this room, Clara. Look at the people sitting here.
Clara: I am looking, Carter. They're your family's guests.
Carter: They're business leaders, oil heiresses, and estate owners. And what are you?
Clara: I thought I was your fiancée.
Carter: A charity case from a small town. You don't belong in this chair.
Clara: You asked me to wear this dress and come with you tonight.
Carter: I brought you here so my mother could see how out of place you really are.
Clara felt a sharp tear slip down her cheek, burning against her skin under the warm daylight pouring through the tall glass windows.
Carter: YOU'RE TOO POOR TO SIT AT MY FAMILY'S TABLE!
Clara: How can you say that to me after everything we've been through?
Carter: It's just simple reality, Clara. My mother is cutting off my allowance if I stay with you.
Clara: So you're throwing five years away for a trust fund stipend?
Carter: I'm choosing my rightful place in society over a nobody.
Before Clara could reply, the heavy footsteps of a butler in a black vest approached the table. He carried a heavy silver tray, moving past the wealthy guests with crisp precision.
Butler: MISS BROOKS, THE FINAL DOCUMENTS ARE WAITING IN THE OFFICE!
Carter turned his head in violent shock, his dark eyes wide as his arrogant expression completely shattered into confusion.
Carter: EXCUSE ME?!
A collective gasp rippled through the surrounding dining tables as the butler stood at attention beside Clara's chair. Clara wiped the tear from her face, her chest rising as years of quiet patience boiled over into fiery determination.