The Caged Canary Finds Her Sky

Kenia POV:

The crystal chandelier hanging from the vaulted ceiling of the Hamptons estate blinded me as I walked down the grand spiral staircase.

I gripped Holden’s arm. The fabric of his tuxedo was smooth beneath my fingers, but his muscles were rigid. We reached the bottom step, stepping onto the marble floor of the main banquet hall.

Holden’s mother, Annabella, sat in a high-backed velvet chair near the fireplace. She didn't even look up as we approached. She kept her eyes fixed on a wealthy socialite next to her, loudly discussing the bloodlines of her racing horses.

I felt the eyes of the room on me. Dozens of women in designer gowns turned their heads. Their eyes raked over my starry blue dress, followed by sharp, cruel whispers behind their champagne flutes.

Holden suddenly pulled his arm out of my grip.

"I need to speak with the bankers from Wall Street," he said coldly, not looking at me. He turned and walked into the crowd, abandoning me instantly.

I stood alone. I walked over to a passing waiter and took a glass of sparkling water. I couldn't touch alcohol because of the baby. I retreated to a quiet corner next to the floor-to-ceiling windows, watching the rain beat against the glass.

Suddenly, the heavy carved mahogany doors of the hall swung open. A collective gasp rippled through the room.

Estella walked in. She wore a blood-red haute couture gown that clung to every curve. She walked with her chin held high, acting like she already owned the Dalton estate.

My eyes immediately locked onto her neck.

Resting against her collarbone was a massive pink diamond necklace. It caught the light, throwing pink sparks across the room. I recognized it instantly. It was the finale piece from the Sotheby’s spring auction. It cost five million dollars. Holden had proudly told the press he bought it for his future wife.

And now, it was wrapped around Estella’s neck.

Estella scanned the room. Her eyes found me in the corner. A vicious, triumphant smile stretched across her red lips.

She took a full glass of Cabernet from a waiter and walked straight toward me. The crowd of women parted for her, eager to watch the slaughter.

Estella stopped two feet away from me. She looked me up and down, her eyes full of disgust.

"What an interesting fabric," Estella said, her voice loud enough for the surrounding guests to hear. "It looks so cheap. No label, I assume? You really lower the standard of the Dalton family by wearing rags to a formal event."

I kept my face perfectly still. "I designed and sewed it myself," I replied evenly. "The value of art doesn't come from a price tag."

A few older men standing nearby—art investors—nodded slightly in agreement.

Estella’s eyes flashed with pure malice.

She took a step forward. Suddenly, her ankle twisted in an exaggerated, theatrical motion. She lunged forward.

Her hand jerked, and the entire glass of dark red Cabernet splashed directly onto my chest.

The cold liquid soaked through the starry blue silk instantly. The heavy red wine spread across my bodice, staining the beautiful fabric with an ugly, dark patch. Because my reflexes were slightly dulled by the pregnancy, I couldn't step back in time. Drops of wine splattered against my chin and neck.

The crowd let out a fake chorus of gasps.

"Oh my god!" Estella cried out. She covered her mouth with her hand. "I am so sorry! I tripped."

She grabbed a paper napkin from a table and stepped into my space. She aggressively rubbed the napkin against my chest. Through the wet silk, her sharp acrylic nails dug hard into my skin, scratching me.

I grabbed her wrist and shoved her hand away. My eyes burned with rage.

Before I could speak, heavy, uneven footsteps pushed through the crowd. Holden appeared.

Estella immediately let out a whimper. Her eyes filled with tears. She threw herself against Holden’s chest. "Holden! I tripped and spilled my wine, and I tried to help her clean it, but she pushed me!"

Holden wrapped his arm tightly around Estella’s waist. He pulled her close, protecting her. Then, his dark, furious eyes snapped to me.

I stood as tall as I could. The wet silk clung to my skin, freezing me to the bone. I stared into his eyes, waiting for him to see the truth. I waited for just one word of defense.

Holden looked at the massive stain on my dress, his upper lip curling in disgust.

"Kenia, stop embarrassing yourself. Go to the restroom and clean yourself up."