Boston Mother Cancels Twenty Two Million Dollar Wedding Gift After Morning Betrayal
She pulled away, her manicured fingers slipping from my wool sleeves, her gaze lingering on the silver edge of my hairline.
By two in the afternoon, the reception inside the Copley Plaza ballroom was a wall of sound. The high gilded ceiling did nothing to disperse the chatter of three hundred guests, and the air was heavy with the scent of roasted duck, white lilies, and expensive champagne. I stood near the ice sculpture of a pair of swans, holding a glass of lukewarm mineral water, trying to ignore the dull ache beneath my wig.
Michael caught my elbow from behind, his grip tighter than usual. He did not look at my face; his eyes were fixed on the crowded dance floor where Victoria was laughing with her bridesmaids.
He pulled me toward a small alcove behind the dessert table, where the smell of chocolate and raspberries was heavy enough to make me lightheaded. He ran his hand through his hair, his fingers snagging slightly on his neat wedding-day trim.
“Mother, what is going on with the accounts?” he asked, his voice low and fast.
