Queen At The Table
827 Words
The sunlight hit just right.
Golden, warm, flattering as if even the sky knew to celebrate her. Charlotte Reid sat at the head of the outdoor terrace table at La Valleria, the most exclusive brunch spot in the city, overlooking the river as though she personally owned the view. Technically, she could. Alexander’s family had already bought into half the district. What was one more indulgence?
Her diamond ring caught the light as she raised her mimosa, and she angled it perfectly making sure it flashed toward the cameras of the women at neighboring tables who kept sneaking glances. Good. Let them look. Let them envy.
Sarah, Aliyah, and Rebecca sat clustered around her like jewels in a crown she wore without apology. Rebecca — once Mallory’s beloved bridesmaid ,now leaned into Charlotte’s side, laughing too hard at everything she said. Pathetic, really. But useful.
“So,” Aliyah said, stirring her latte with manufactured delicacy, “have you heard from Mallory at all?”
Charlotte smirked over the rim of her glass. “Mallory? No. She’s probably still crying somewhere. Or in therapy. Or trying to pretend she’s mysteriously vanished.” She flicked her hand dismissively. “She was always dramatic.”
They laughed. Loud. Delighted. Rebecca leaned closer.
“I never understood why you were always compared to her,” Rebecca said. “She was… nice, I guess. But so boring. Always polite, always proper.” Rebecca rolled her eyes. “I’d rather choke than live like that.”
Charlotte’s smile sharpened.
“Exactly. She spent her whole life trying to be perfect. But perfection is fragile. All it takes is one crack.” She tapped her diamond ring against her glass. Clink. “And she shattered beautifully.”
More laughter. A waiter poured champagne into her flute without needing to be asked. She didn’t thank him. Gratitude was for people who didn’t expect to be served.
Across the table, Alexander sat with one arm draped over the back of his chair, observing quietly. That was something about her husband she hadn’t yet decided if she liked or not he watched everything, but said little. His eyes narrowed slightly now, just a fraction, as if he were hearing something new.
Charlotte reached for his hand theatrically. “My husband,” she said with a deliberate sigh, “is far better suited to me anyway. Mallory would have bored him to death.”
Rebecca nodded eagerly. “Oh absolutely. She never took risks. Always so… careful. Even at the bridal fitting she was fussing about dress length and modesty.” She laughed into her mimosa. “A bride worrying about modesty. Can you imagine?”
Charlotte leaned in, voice loud enough for nearby tables to catch. “Mallory never understood that men don’t want saints. They want spectacle.”
Alexander’s gaze cut to her then ,not with admiration, but curiosity. As if re-evaluating what, exactly, he had married.
Charlotte caught the shift.
She ignored it.
Her parents arrived then, sweeping in with the quiet importance only old money could carry. Her mother air-kissed her cheeks, leaving the faintest trace of expensive perfume. Her father pressed a hand to her shoulder firm, approving.
“You look radiant, darling,” her mother cooed. “Marriage suits you.”
“Of course it does,” Charlotte said sweetly. “Some of us were born for it.”
No one mentioned Mallory. Not once. Not even in pity. She was a ghost before she’d even died.
And that — that was the final victory.
Charlotte lifted her glass again. “To new beginnings,” she declared.
“To Mrs. Reid,” Rebecca squealed.
“To the only Mrs. Reid that matters,” Charlotte corrected.
Their laughter chimed like silver on porcelain.
But then — one thing went wrong.
As her glass tilted toward her lips, she caught, from the corner of her eye, a couple at the far end of the terrace. Two women — whispering. One of them held a phone angled toward Charlotte’s table. At first Charlotte smirked, ready to relish the attention.
Until she saw the headline on the phone’s screen reflected in the glass of the terrace divider.
"SCANDAL OR STRATEGY? Sources Suggest Mallory Adams Was Replaced at the Altar by Sister Charlotte Reid."
Her heartbeat stuttered.
Just for a second.
The woman with the phone whispered something to her friend — and they laughed.
Laughed.
Not in envy.
In mockery.
Heat slithered beneath Charlotte’s skin. A twitch of rage threatened to break through her perfect posture, but she smoothed it away with a slow sip.
Alexander watched her.
Just watched.
And for the first time since the wedding, Charlotte felt something unfamiliar tighten in her stomach.
Not victory.
Not triumph.
A c***k.
Fine. Barely visible.
But there.
She lifted her chin higher.
Let them whisper.
They had no idea who they were dealing with.
If the world wanted a villain,Charlotte Reid would give them one.
- Writer
