“Good,” Victor sneered. “I don’t want my investors asking why my sister-in-law is wearing… whatever that is. By the way, Elena, did you iron my shirt? I left it on the chair.”
“I did,” I whispered.
“Speak up,” my father commanded. “Stop mumbling.”
“I did!” I said, louder this time. A sharp pain shot through my lower abdomen, stealing my breath. I clutched the edge of the sofa. “Mom… I really don’t feel well.”
Linda turned around, her eyes narrowing. She looked at me not with concern, but with annoyance. “Elena, if you ruin tonight with your drama, I will never forgive you. Victor is about to sign the contract of a lifetime. Pull yourself together.”
I looked at them. My father, reading the paper. My mother, obsessed with her jewelry. My sister and her husband, preening like peacocks. I was the invisible servant, the prop in their play of a perfect family.
I didn’t know it then, but the curtain was about to fall.
Chapter 2: The Monologue of Nightmares
The pain that hit me twenty minutes later wasn’t a kick. It was a tearing sensation, like a hot knife slicing through my insides.
I was in the kitchen, trying to arrange appetizers on a silver platter. The room spun. The ceramic tile floor seemed to tilt. I dropped the platter. It clattered loudly, shrimp and expensive caviar spilling everywhere.
“What now?” Clara yelled from the living room.
