She wanted the party at my house. Of course she did. She wanted to parade her fertility in the home of the barren woman she was betraying. She wanted to stand in my living room, surrounded by my friends, eating my food, and secretly laughing at me.
“Are you sure you’re okay with this, Laura?” she asked, putting on a fake pout. “I know, you know, the baby stuff is hard for you.”
“I’m over it,” I said, sipping my tea. “Really. I’m just happy for you and for the father—whoever he is.”
Monica smirked.
“Oh, he’ll be happy. Trust me.”
Saturday arrived—the gender reveal day. My house was transformed into a glittering palace of deception. Gold streamers hung from the chandeliers. A catering team, paid for by me, was setting up a buffet of lobster sliders and truffle fries. Richard was pacing the hallway looking nervous.
“Is this too much?” he asked, adjusting his tie. “People might talk. Why are we doing this for your assistant?”
“She’s my best friend, Richard,” I said, fixing his collar. “And besides, we’re celebrating us, too. Remember the deal—we can announce it to everyone tonight, right?”
He relaxed slightly.
“The deal. Right.”
Guests started arriving at 2 p.m. It was a mix of Richard’s business associates—who he wanted to impress with his new “wealth”—my family, who were all in on the plan, and Monica’s friends, a gaggle of women who looked at me with pity, clearly knowing more than they should.
Monica arrived in a white limousine. She stepped out wearing a gold sequin gown that hugged her bump. She looked like she was arriving at the Met Gala, not a backyard barbecue.
“Welcome to the party!” she shouted, waving to everyone.
She walked straight to Richard and gave him a hug that lasted three seconds too long. I watched from the balcony. The way she looked at him—it wasn’t just love; it was ownership. She thought she owned him now. She thought she owned this house, this life.
My mother walked up beside me. She was wearing black, like she was attending a funeral. In a way, she was.
“Are you ready?” Mom asked.
“I’ve been ready for a lifetime,” I said.
“The server is set up,” Mom said. “The projector is focused. Dad has the security team on standby in the garage.”
“Good.”
I looked down at the crowd. Monica was holding court near the chocolate fountain, laughing loudly. Richard was holding a scotch, looking smugly at my father’s business partners, probably bragging about his new managing-director title. They were so high up. The fall was going to be breathtaking.
“Laura!” Monica waved at me from below. “Come down! It’s time for the video!”
I smiled and waved back.
“Coming.”
