Chapter 2: Engagement Banquet at the Echelon Hotel
VANESSA BELMONT
I returned to my bedroom and paced. My phone dinged, and I glanced at the screen. A calendar reminder popped up: Engagement Banquet at the Echelon Hotel.
Memories of my previous life flickered in my mind like an old movie reel. Ah. Yes. I’d spent a miserable evening watching Nathan and Fiona not-so-secretly adore each other. It made me sick to my stomach, and I’d fled to the restroom to cry in a stall.
How humiliating.
But not as humiliating as standing on stage with my fiancé, exchanging rings and promises for a future together ... only to have Fiona faint. Nathan left mid-vow to scoop up Fiona and rush her to the hospital. Wasn’t he such a good friend? Vomit.
Oh my God. Was I really that pathetic? My cringe behavior was beyond embarrassing. Why had I given Nathan such blind devotion? Disrespect by clueless idiocy was still considered disrespect. I deserved better.
"I’ll make him dump me," I told myself. I marched into my dressing room and stared at row after row of conservative clothing—high collars, knee-length skirts.
Ugh. So much white and beige. Not a single primary color. Plain shoes, all with low heels. I always pinned up my long red hair, wore only clear nail polish. My jewelry was expensive but not flashy. My makeup was low-key but flawless. My personality? Boring but—No. No "but." Just boring. A quiet, reserved nincompoop—that was Vanessa Belmont.
My cat, Henry, jumped onto the chair where I usually sat to put on my shoes. "It’s time for some serious retail therapy." I raised my arms dramatically. "No one will stop me from being fabulous."