BILLIONAIRES: Father or Son

Flora stared at her reflection in the mirror, adjusting the silver necklace that adorned her neck. The emerald dress that was chosen for her clung to her figure perfectly, but she could not help but wonder if it would be enough to make Jayden notice her presence.

It was a simple, elegant gown, chosen specifically to be understated. Tonight was not about her. It was about Lisette Kensington’s forty-sixth birthday, an event that required Flora to be presentable but invisible.

Three years of marriage, and still he looked through her as if she were made of glass. She smoothed down the fabric with trembling hands.

Her gaze drifted from her reflection to the silver-framed photograph on her dresser. It was their wedding picture. Her smile in the picture was real and full of a young girl’s hope. She remembered that girl, the one who watched Jayden Kensington from afar in the school hallways. He was a senior, popular and handsome, and she was just the gardener’s daughter. She never thought he would even know her name.

He knew her name now. He had slurred it in the dark on that drunken night, a night that had cost her everything. His grandfather, Rudolf Kensington, had been furious. Not at Jayden’s actions, but at the risk of a scandal. And so, a deal was made. A secret marriage to save the family name. Flora had foolishly thought it was a dream come true. She believed, with all her heart, that Jayden would eventually see her, that he would come to love her.

"What a fool you have been," she whispered to her reflection.

Yesterday marked three years since their wedding. Jayden had not come home or even called. The flowers she had arranged on the dining table remained untouched and wilting like her hopes.

Taking a deep breath, Flora turned from the mirror and her mask went back in place. She was Mrs. Jayden Kensington, and she would play her part.

She descended the grand, curving staircase with her chin high and her back straight. It was her only armor. The sound of the party rose to meet her, the gentle clinking of crystal glasses, the low hum of conversation, and the soft notes of a string quartet in the corner. The mansion was filled with the most important people in Rockville.

Politicians with wide smiles, business owners with sharp eyes, and the old families who had run this town for generations. They were all here for her mother-in-law’s forty-sixth birthday.

Flora’s polite smile was painted on her lips. A few guests offered her a quick, tight nod. Most simply looked through her as if she were part of the scenery, or another expensive decoration personally chosen by Lisette. Her mother-in-law had made it very clear that Flora’s help in planning the party was not needed.

At the dinner table, she found her name card placed near the far end, a clear sign of her place in the family. She took her seat and rested her hands in her lap.

The conversations flowed around her**,** but she could not join any.

"Flora, be a dear and serve the Crawfords," Lisette called from her place at the center of the table, smiling sweetly at Flora. The smile never reached her eyes. "You do remember how to serve properly, do you not?"

A quiet laugh rippled through the nearby guests. Flora’s own smile didn’t waver. “Of course, Mother.” She picked up the serving dish and moved around the table, making sure her hands did not shake, even as she felt a hundred eyes on her back.

"I cannot believe she still does not know which fork to use first," her cousin-in-law, Vivian, whispered just loud enough for Flora to hear.

Flora's knuckles whitened around the serving spoon, but her smile remained fixed in place. She served the Crawfords without spilling a drop, then returned to her seat with her dignity intact.

"Where is Jayden this evening?" asked an elderly gentleman seated to her right**,** one of the few who treated her with basic courtesy.

"I am afraid I do not know," Flora admitted. "He did not inform me of his plans."

"How unusual for a husband," the man's wife commented with false concern. "My Harold never leaves the house without telling me exactly when he will return."

"Flora is quite used to it," Lisette interjected. "My son is a very busy man. The Kensington Empire does not run itself, after all." The unspoken implication hung in the air: unlike Flora, who contributed nothing of value.

"Thank you, Flora," said one of Lisette's friends with exaggerated politeness. "How nice to have someone so... adaptable in the family."

"It is my pleasure," Flora replied, holding the woman's gaze a beat longer than was comfortable.

The main course had just been served when the double doors to the dining room swung open. Conversation stopped as heads turned toward the interruption. Flora looked up with a mix of annoyance and hope fluttering in her chest at the thought that Jayden was finally there.

The hope died as quickly as it had bloomed. Jayden stood in the doorway, his tall frame imposing in a tailored black suit. But it was not his presence that caused Flora's breath to catch painfully in her throat. It was the woman standing beside him, with her hand possessively on his arm. Melissa Pembroke, his ex-girlfriend.