And then he found his voice. "You fat bitch!" he cussed.
It was one of his favorite things to say about me. His favourite activity has always been finding new ways to tear my self-esteem apart little by little until there was nothing left to tear down but Mama didn't raise a weak ass bitch.
And so, when my baby sister, Lark, hefted a giant crystal vase like it was a feather, and brought it down on his head. Knocking him out cold, I wasn't even a bit surprised.
Poking insults at me where Lark or Dad was, was a good way to get killed. They were my best defenders.
And just like that the room exploded. One of the Astor brats lunged for Lark, but Pascal's roar and my grandmother's cane slamming against the floor shut it all down.
Pascal turned to me, his face filled with this fake, grandfatherly concern like he genuinely cared about me.
Pascal Astor was my grandmother in trousers. My life was just a business transaction to him, and nothing more.
"Emilia, my dear. Let's all take a breath, there's no need to be angry. My nephew is a fool. We can forgive a few harsh words, can't we? I am such he didn't mean to call you such nasty words. Calm yourself, my dear"
I laughed.
"Oh, he did or he wouldn't have called me that this time or the one hundred and five times he did in the past. And that's okay. I am a fat bitch—"
"No, you are not" the voice came from behind me. "You are curvy and beautiful. Breathtaking is more like it, Emilia"
Carson's voice made me turn around to look at him. I didn't even know he was in the room until he spoke.
I thought he took me up on the offer to hide out in the kitchen.
I suddenly found myself smiling at this stranger I just met hours ago.
My husband, whose face I have never seen. Leaning against the wall, arms folded and waiting patiently for everything to blow up.
"And be pissed if you want to be. I will take your side" He smiled back.
It was certain now. Carson Gibbs, whomever he was, was my new favorite person.
"Who's he?" Pascal Astor asked.
I ignored his question and I gave Carson my best, most pleased smile like I was saying 'you just earned another 100 bucks Carson Gibbs' before I turned my attention to Mr. Astor.
"I'm very forgiving, Mr. Astor. I forgave him for never paying for a single meal in five years. I forgave him for making me feel like yesterday's trash. I can even forgive him for calling me a fat bitch."
I took a step closer, leaning in like I was sharing a secret. "But the question is, can you forgive him, Mr. Astor? Can you forgive Preston for fucking your daughter, Clara, in the southern bathroom this morning? Because I really, really can't forgive that"
The color drained from Pascal's face. He looked at Clara immediately, his mind working fast to wrap around the bomb I dropped.
"My baby girl?" He asked out loud.
"Yes. Your daughter"
"Daddy, she's lying!" Clara squealed, her eyes wide with fake tears. "Shut up, Emilia!"
I saw the look of relief on his face. Who would blame him? In this case it was easier to believe the lie. I wish I had the luxury of believing in a lie.
Pascal Astor believed his daughter. Of course. And when he turned back to me, he was purple.
"How dare you spread these filthy lies about my family! Rumors like that can ruin our reputation! I have a good mind to demand for your punishment"
My grandmother swooped in, placing her bony hand on his arm. Of course, here comes Marcy Vanderbilt the patron saint of dicks!
"Pascal, please. You must excuse her. She's a child. She will marry him. We'll pay for wedding."
After a lot of furious glares and nose-lifting, and air puffing, the Astors gathered their knocked-out prize and left.
As soon as the door closed, the sweet negotiator disappeared and a murderous blackmailer emerged.
My grandmother turned her eyes on me. "You will marry him," she said, each word precise.
"No, I won't" I told her through my clench jaw.
She took a step closer to me and grabbed my arm, her nails digging tunnels in them.
"You will marry him. You will not give birth to a bastard in my house, Little girl —"
"I wasn't planning on it, Grandma" I forced out.
A flicker of relief crossed her face. "Good. You've come to your senses."
"Because I'm already married," I added. The pause was so she can feel the impact of my words. Her face fell.
Damn! It felt good!
It felt good to wipe that stupid smug look off her cold sadistic face!
It felt good to break Marcy Vanderbilt for a change.
It wasn't everyday one can shock a grand schemer like Marcy Vanderbilt.
"And my husband is perfectly willing to raise my baby with me. Isn't that right, Carson Gibbs?"
Every single head in the room turned to the doorway, where Carson stood in his greasy flannel, a statue of silent competence.
He met my grandmother's horrified stare and didn't even blink. "Yes, ma'am," he said, his voice steady as stone. "Very much willing."
For one glorious second, there was absolute silence. You could have heard a pin drop on the Persian rug...then I saw it – the flicker of recognition in my grandmother's eyes, followed by absolute horror.
"Gibbs? Like Carson Gibbs from Gibbs Ranch and Farm?" She asked me.
Her scream shook the house. "YOU MARRIED THE MEAT MAN!"
"Yes." I said. "Yes, I did"