The Sonar family house glittered under crystal chandeliers. Laughter and champagne flowed freely through the marble halls as guests celebrated Charlotte Sonar's latest charity achievement. Designer dresses swished past priceless paintings. Diamond jewelry caught the light with every movement.
Mavis Donard moved through the crowd, dressed in a waiter's uniform. He carried a silver tray of champagne flutes, weaving between clusters of wealthy guests who barely noticed him.
"Isn't that the Sonar's son-in-law?" a woman whispered behind her hand.
"Poor thing," her companion replied with manufactured sympathy.
Mavis kept his expression neutral. He'd learned over three years that reacting only made things worse. The whispers followed him everywhere in this house. They always had.
He approached a group near the grand staircase, offering drinks with a polite nod. Most took glasses without acknowledgment. To them, he was just another servant. The fact that he was married to their host's daughter seemed like a cruel joke they were all in on.
The sound of shattering glass cut through the chatter.
Mavis turned to see a champagne flute broken at his feet, red wine spreading across the white marble like blood. His mother-in-law, Enid Sonar, stood over the mess with her arms crossed. Her friends clustered around her with their faces arranged in matching expressions of displeasure.
"Well?" Enid's voice was sharp and harsh. "Are you going to just stand there?"
"I'll clean it up right away, Mrs. Sonar." Mavis set down his tray and pulled a cloth from his pocket.
He knelt on the expensive floor, carefully picking up glass shards while wine soaked into the knees of his pants. The conversations around him had quieted, as veryone was watching now.
"Honestly, Enid," one of her friends said loudly. "Isn't that your son-in-law?"
Another woman laughed. "I didn't know the Sonars hired family now."
The group erupted in laughter. Enid smiled, clearly enjoying herself. She lifted her own glass of red wine, tilted it deliberately, and poured the entire contents onto Mavis's back.
The cold liquid soaked through his white shirt. Mavis froze, his hands were still full of broken glass.
"Oops," Enid said without a trace of remorse. "How clumsy of me."
Her friends cackled like hyenas.
"Tch. The poor married up to escape poverty," Enid announced to the crowd. "You can take the boy out of the gutter, but you can't take the gutter out of the boy."
More laughter erupted. Mavis stood slowly, still holding the glass shards. His face remained calm. He smiled slightly as he looked at his mother-in-law.
"Excuse me," he said quietly. "I'll go change."
But inside, he was burning with rage, anger and embarrassment.
He walked to the kitchen carefully, depositing the broken glass in the trash. The staff barely glanced at him. They'd seen this performance before. The hired help at least had the decency to pretend they didn't enjoy his humiliation.
Mavis stripped off his wine-soaked shirt and grabbed a spare from the supply closet. As he changed, memories flooded his mind unbidden.
Three years of this. Three years of being treated worse than a dog. Sleeping in a servant's room while his wife lived in luxury upstairs. Eating leftovers in the kitchen after everyone else had been fed. Working without pay, without respect, without even basic human dignity.
The Sonars had promised him a place in their family.
He thought of his parents. The Donard family had once been powerful. They had real estate, technology and influence that reached across California. Then came the massacre, the fire and the screaming. Mavis had been eighteen, studying abroad when his entire family was wiped out in a single night.
Everyone said it was a robbery gone wrong, but Mavis knew better. Someone had targeted them specifically. But he'd been too traumatized, too broken to investigate. He'd gone into hiding, working minimum wage jobs under a false name, trying to survive.
His father's last words to him on the phone that night was "Live humbly, son. Keep your head down and fight when the time is right. The truth will resurface."
Mavis had been waiting for that moment for ten years. Waiting and enduring and surviving.
But tonight, his patience was cracking. He could feel something building inside him, a pressure that couldn't be contained much longer.
He returned to the party with a fresh tray of wine glasses. The crowd had grown larger, the noise was louder now. He moved through the bodies mechanically, offering drinks, collecting empties.
Then he saw Charlotte.
His wife stood near the terrace doors, laughing at something her business partner said. The man was tall, handsome and confident. His hand dropped casually to Charlotte's waist. She didn't pull away. Instead, she leaned into the touch, with a radiant smile
Mavis stopped walking. His jaw clenched so hard his teeth ached. The tray trembled slightly in his hands.
She'd never smiled at him like that. Never touched him at all, actually. Their marriage existed on paper only.
The air around him felt suddenly heavy, it was thick with tension. For a moment, the noise of the party seemed to fade. Mavis felt like something was watching him, measuring him, waiting for him to break.
He swallowed his fury and kept moving.
A commotion at the entrance drew everyone's attention. The crowd parted like as someone important arrived. Guests rushed forward, eager to greet whoever commanded such respect.
Mavis didn't care. He bent to pick up another broken glass someone had carelessly set on a side table. As he reached for it, a pair of expensive leather shoes stepped into his line of sight.
He looked up slowly.
The man staring down at him wore a tailored suit that probably cost more than most cars. His dark hair was styled perfectly. His smile was more like a smirk.
Mavis was shocked to see who it was.
"Lugar?"
His cousin. Lugar Kiwanis. The boy who'd been like a brother to him, who was supposed to have died in the massacre ten years ago.
Lugar's smile widened. "Hello, cousin. Look at you….on your knees where you belong."
The guests nearby had fallen silent, watching the exchange with hungry eyes.
"I thought you were dead," Mavis whispered.
"Disappointed?" Lugar crouched down, bringing his face level with Mavis's. His voice dropped to a whisper only Mavis could hear. "You'll regret ever being born a Donard."
Before Mavis could respond, Charlotte appeared. She slipped her arm through Lugar's and pulled him up, completely ignoring Mavis on the floor.
"Darling," she said to Lugar. "Come meet Father."
Darling?
Charlotte finally glanced down at Mavis. "Refill my champagne before you do anything else."
Mavis stood, the glass was still in his hand. "Charlotte…."
She rolled her eyes. "If you can't even pour drinks right, what else are you good for?"
The nearby guests erupted in laughter.
Charlotte and Lugar walked away, her hand was possessively on his arm. They moved through the crowd toward the small stage at the far end of the hall. Mavis watched them go, his mind started racing.
Lugar was alive. Lugar was here, with Charlotte.
Nothing made sense.
Charlotte climbed the three steps to the stage. Someone handed her a microphone. The crowd quieted as all eyes turning toward her. She looked radiant under the spotlight, confident and beautiful.
Her gaze swept across the room and landed on Mavis. The smile on her face turned evil.
"Everyone, I have an announcement to make," Charlotte said, her voice was clear and strong.
The room fell completely silent.
Charlotte's eyes never left Mavis. "I'm getting a divorce."