Chapter 44
Chapter 44:
Claudine picked up a silver server and cut a generous slice. The scent of sweet, ripe mango rose from the plate, and Eliza’s stomach turned.
“For our dear sister, Eliza,” Claudine cooed, extending the plate with a radiant smile. “A sweet start to a new chapter p>
Eliza stared at the orange mousse. “I can’t eat this, Claudine p>
“Why? On a diet?” Claudine asked, lifting the microphone she had somehow acquired. Her voice carried across the entire room. “It’s rude to refuse the bride, Eliza p>
Whispers rippled through the crowd. She’s refusing the cake. How petty. Jealous ex.
Anson’s eyes dropped to the plate. A frown crossed his face. “Is that — mango p>
“Yes! Imported from the Philippines. Absolutely delicious,” Claudine beamed.
“Eliza is allergic,” Anson started to say. He took a half-step forward, his hand rising to stop Claudine — but Victoria, standing just at his elbow, closed her fingers around his forearm. Her grip was steel, her painted nails pressing into the fabric of his jacket. She gave him the smallest, most deliberate shake of her head, her eyes burning with a single silent command: Do not make a scene. Do not ruin this merger.
Anson’s arm dropped back to his side. His voice died in his throat.
“Oh, surely a little bite won’t kill her?” Claudine laughed, the sound bright and hollow. She extended the fork toward Eliza’s mouth. “Just a taste. For the cameras p>
Eliza looked at Anson. He didn’t move. He glanced at his mother, then at the floor, and stood there — held in place by his leash.
𝗡𝗲𝗐 𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗄l𝘆 c𝗵𝗮p𝘵е𝗿𝗌 𝗈𝘯.с𝘰m
She understood the trap completely. If she refused, she was the bitter, jealous ex making a scene at the engagement party of the century. The headlines would dismantle everything she had rebuilt.
If she ate it, she risked her life.
But she had an EpiPen in her purse. And perhaps — perhaps it was worth it to show Anson, in front of every person in this room, exactly what his silence was worth.
She took the fork.
“Fine,” she said, her voice ringing out clearly. “Congratulations p>
She put the fork in her mouth.
The taste of mango was sweet, cloying, and terrifying.
The world was narrowing to a pinprick of light.
The opulent hallway of The Plaza Hotel — its gold sconces and thick patterned carpets — began to spin violently. Eliza slid down the wall, her silk dress bunching around her legs. Her hands flew to her throat, clawing at the high collar she had worn to hide Dallas’s marks.
It felt as though someone had poured concrete down her esophagus.
She tried to inhale, but the air wouldn’t pass. A high-pitched wheeze escaped her lips — a stridor that meant her airway was collapsing. Her vision grayed at the edges, the faces around her warping into grotesque masks.
“Eliza!” Azalea’s scream was shrill, cutting through the buzzing in her ears.
Azalea dropped to her knees, tears already streaming down her face. “Oh my god — help! Someone get a medic p>