Chapter 1
Thirty champagne glasses went into the air at exactly the same time.
That bothered Eleanor Bellini more than the slap.
She stood in the middle of her estate lawn with water dripping from her hair, her black-and-cream suit soaked through, and Serena Cole smiling directly into her face.
“You’re the groom’s mother.”
Serena’s voice carried across the lawn.
“Stop acting like you own the party.”
Adrian stood ten feet away.
Eleanor’s only son.
Thirty years old.
Groom-to-be.
Silent.
Eleanor slowly turned her face back after Serena’s slap.
She did not touch her.
Not yet.
Instead, she looked around the reception.
Family.
Capos.
Old friends.
People who had eaten at her table for years.
“Who here thinks she was right?”
The reaction was immediate.
Laughter.
Then champagne glasses rose.
One.
Five.
Ten.
Nearly every hand.
Too fast.
Too synchronized.
Eleanor studied them.
Grant Cole walked toward her.
Serena’s older brother wore the satisfied expression of a man watching a plan work exactly as expected.
He shoved Eleanor in the shoulder.
“Look around.”
He smirked.
“Everyone.”
Eleanor slid one step across the wet stone.
Then smiled.
Grant’s confidence sharpened.
“Finally understand?”
“No.”
Eleanor looked at the raised glasses.
“I finally understand something else.”
Grant swung.
Eleanor moved beneath the punch.
Her counterstrike sent him backward into the stacked barrel display.
Wooden crates collapsed.
Packing straw exploded across the grass.
An empty barrel rolled past him.
The laughter ended.
Serena rushed forward.
Eleanor caught her wrist.
One slap.
One hard kick.
Serena disappeared backward through the giant floral letters spelling ENGAGED.
White flowers burst across the lawn.
Ribbons tore loose.
Phones lowered.
Eleanor turned toward the guests.
Adrian finally moved.
“Mom—”
One look stopped him.
Then Eleanor faced every person who had raised a glass.
“Good.”
Her voice was quiet.
“Now I know exactly who leaves with her.”
Glasses began lowering.
One after another.
Serena pushed flowers from her dress.
“You think they’re scared of you?”
Eleanor looked at her.
Serena laughed.
“They already chose.”
Silence.
Adrian’s face changed.
Eleanor noticed.
Not fear of what Serena had said.
Recognition.
She walked toward him.
“What does she mean?”
Adrian swallowed.
“Mom…”
“What does she mean?”
Serena stood.
Her cheek was red.
Her gown torn at one shoulder.
She still smiled.
“Ask your son.”
Eleanor did.
Adrian looked toward the crowd.
Then toward Serena.
That was enough.
“You knew they would raise those glasses.”
“No.”
Too fast.
Eleanor’s eyes hardened.
Adrian corrected himself.
“I knew there was supposed to be a toast.”
“What toast?”
Serena stepped between them.
“Oh, stop interrogating him.”
Eleanor looked at her.
Serena smiled.
“Your son is thirty.”
Then crueler:
“You don’t get to keep him tied to your skirt because your husband is dead.”
The lawn became still.
Eleanor’s husband, Matteo, had been dead six years.
Serena knew exactly where she had aimed that sentence.
Adrian whispered:
“Serena.”
She ignored him.
“Matteo knew when to let men speak.”
Eleanor’s expression changed.
Serena continued anyway.
“You should try it sometime.”
Eleanor walked closer.
Serena’s smile weakened.
Eleanor did not strike her.
She looked past her.
At the guests.
At the lowered glasses.
Then back at Adrian.
“Bring me one.”
He frowned.
“One what?”
“Glass.”
Adrian picked up the closest champagne flute.
Eleanor examined the stem.
A thin black ribbon had been tied beneath the base.
She looked around.
Every raised glass had one.
The others did not.
Eleanor slowly lifted her eyes.
May you like
The humiliation had not created the vote.
The vote had been prepared before she ever walked onto the lawn.
