Born from Hate, Destined for Love

Emily Milstein had always known that her parents didn't want her. They never sugar-coated their feelings towards her. As the firstborn of a prestigious Lower Manhattan family, she was supposed to be a boy, not a girl. Her parents were both from "old" money. Her mother, Caroline Ogelthorpe, was a debutante from Savannah, Georgia. Her father, Samuel Milstein's, Great-Grandfather immigrated to the US in the early 1900s from Russia. The family business started by selling fabrics and textiles in New York City. In the late 1950s, it switched to real estate and the Milstein empire was born. An empire that Emily wanted nothing to do with. Her parents married for prestige and connection. They loathed each other and could not stand to be in the same room. Her mother lives in the family home, a beautiful limestone townhouse, while her father lived in the penthouse of one of their high rise buildings in the city with his Mistress. Caroline Ogelthorpe-Milstein was a beautiful, statuesque, strawberry-blonde with blue eyes. At the age of 42, Caroline still looks like she could walk out of the pages of Vogue magazine, too bad her inside is not as beautiful as her outside. Every chance she gets, she reminds Emily of her disappointment in her and how it was her fault that she had to go through pregnancy twice. At least the second time gave them the male heir they wanted the first time. Emily's younger 15-year-old brother, Liam, was the golden boy. Like their father, he has golden blonde hair, stormy blue eyes and a tall, lean frame. He is the quarterback of his high school football team, dating the head cheerleader, and is set to inherit the entire family empire. Emily is kind of the odd duck in her family. She has deep red hair that reaches down to the middle of her back and sparkling green eyes. She is only about 5ft. 3in. Apparently, she looks more like her crazy Aunt Helen, her mother's sister, than her parents. She doesn't really remember Aunt Helen. She hasn't seen her since she was 4 years old. "Miss Emily, you better hurry! The car should be here any minute to pick you up!" yelled Mrs. Cutwright up the stairs. Mrs. Cutwright has been with our family since I was born 18 years ago. She is more of a mother to me than Caroline ever was or will be. Today should be a happy day. It's my 18th birthday. Instead of a quiet celebration, I had to endure three hours with my family and their friends and business associates. I look at myself in the mirror and wonder for the 100th time, "why did my mother insist on me wearing this white dress?" I look like Casper the ghost with my pale skin and the stark white of the sequins on the dress. The front plunges down between my breasts, and it has a slit halfway up my leg. I would never pick out such a monstrosity. But, I know I must wear it or be ridiculed all night and punished tomorrow. I quickly grabbed my purse, threw my phone inside, and headed down the stairs. I was met at the bottom of the step by Mrs. Cutwright, "Your wrap Miss Emily, and Happy Birthday, Miss." "Thank you, Mrs. Cutwright, is the car here?" I said. "Yes, Miss, it just pulled up a minute ago. You had better hurry, you don't want to keep them waiting" she said. I gave her a quick hug and ran out the door to the black Rolls-Royce Phantom at the curb. The family chauffeur, Brian, held the door for me. He softly said"Happy Birthday Miss." I gave him a small smile and quickly got into the car. As my car pulled up to 583 Park Avenue, I noticed several couples dressed in their finest entering the banquet hall. I didn't recognize anyone, but I knew this was more of a business write-off than an 18th Birthday celebration. I exited the car and entered the hall. Each couple was announced as they entered. When the announcer saw me, he motioned to the band to stop playing. A drum-roll began and the announcer said, "Ladies and gentlemen, it is my great honor to announce the arrival of our birthday girl, Miss Emily Milstein!" A round of applause went up, and all eyes turned towards me. I know that my face turned three shades of red. I wanted to crawl into a hole. How embarrassing! My brother Liam, bless his heart, decided to save me by coming over and offering his arm for me to take. He walked us to where our parents stood in the front. It didn't take more than a second for my mom to make me uncomfortable, "Emily stop slouching, your dress is beautiful, I wish you filled the top out better." I simply replied, "yes mother." Standing by my mother was an older woman with red hair streaked with white. She had a huge smile on her face. She quickly came over to me and said "Oh my gosh, look how you have changed!" "Happy Birthday, Emily!" I looked at her in puzzlement. She noticed I had no idea who she was. "Oh I am sorry, I am your Aunt Helen, your mother's sister." "Hel, I told you she wouldn't remember you, I don't know why you insisted on coming" my mother said. "Well Caroline, it's not every day your firstborn niece becomes an adult" my Aunt said. I immediately liked her. She had this light that shined deep within. Plus, she didn't let my mother get by with her nasty attitude. My father was up on stage and tapped the microphone to get our attention. "I want to welcome everyone to our daughter's 18th Birthday celebration." "Emily graduated last month and, hopefully, soon we will have another special announcement." "But, until then, I hope you enjoy your evening." What the hell is he talking about? What special announcement? "Emily, I would like to introduce you to a business associate." "Emily, this is Mark Simons, of Simons & Lauder real estate", my father said. I looked up at a tall, smug man with thinning black hair and a wax-groomed mustache. It reminded me of the handle bars on my old bike when I was 5. He reminded me of an oily car salesman. He greeted me with his hand outstretched. "Hello Miss Milstein, it is a pleasure to finally meet you." "I have heard a lot about you," he said. He trailed his eyes up my body, and I swear he licked his lips. I quickly shook his clammy hand and discreetly wiped it off on my thigh. In a sickly sweet voice my mother said, "Mr. Simons, would you like the honor of dancing with the birthday girl first this evening?" My mouth almost hit the floor. What was my mother doing? She actually wanted me to dance with him? He quickly stated "I would love to." My mother signaled the band to start. They began to play the beautiful ballad At Last, by the great Etta James. Mr. Simons grabbed my hand and pulled me to the center of the room. We were the only couple on the dance floor. I could feel everyone looking at us and could hear soft whispering among them. He pulled me towards him, placed my hand on his shoulder and his on my waist. We began to waltz around the room. It wasn't long before he missed a step and stepped on my toes. By the time the song ended, he had stepped on my toes numerous times. The faces around the room now held pity within. Was that because of his terrible dancing?