Tara Vance Strikes Back

“You look ready, Tara,” a voice called from behind her. She turned to see Uncle Julian Vance beside her, the kindest, most good-hearted man, ready to do something big for her in the Ballroom today. His voice carried the same gentle, deep resonance and reassurance. He stood there wearing a black blazer and cream pants that matched his tie. He looked trim as usual, his blazer wrinkle-free over the white shirt. Classic, it looked elegant. “Yes, it’s my big day after all.” “It’s Tara; you’ve worked for three years on this charter. Tonight, the board finally signs you as the official chair.” Tara smiled, warmth spreading over her chest. Her hard work was finally about to pay off. She entered this world trusting that dedication and sincere effort were enough to secure her future. “Thank you, Uncle Julian. I couldn’t have managed without your guidance.” "A true leader carries their burden without complaint," he murmured, offering his arm. "Let’s go inside." With that, he went through the double doors of the Grand Meridian ballroom. Since the day his father died, he has been a rock to her, someone she can rely on. He had guided her, taught her the ins and outs of the charity business, and promised she would always have an honored place in the family trade. Tara stood outside the grand double doors, adjusting the sleeves of her emerald-green dress, wanting to look perfect for her big day before she went inside. Her dress shimmered along with her. The earrings she chose to pair with it contrasted with the cherry-red ruby she wore. She let out a breath, squared her shoulders, and walked through the double doors. Inside, the crystal chandeliers of the Grand Meridian ballroom filled the room with bright light; gold decorations hung across the wall, and a banner hung from one side of the wall to another with golden and silver letters on it: STERLING FOUNDATION and its motto, Veritas et Integritas, in small cursive writing below it, which catches everyone’s attention first when they enter through the double doors, she guessed. Tonight is the annual gala for the Sterling Foundation and Julian Vance, the powerful head of the family whose words carry weight in this world. He is ready to step down and give his title to his new successor, Tara. The company’s board members and Julian, the Foundation's CEO, decided to ratify her appointment and endowment. They voted one week ago and decided to welcome Tara as their new leader with a grand announcement party in this magnificent ballroom. The banquet was packed with elites murmuring and gossiping about the big news, flashy money written all over them, clinking their glasses as they drank champagne. When she entered the ballroom, their mouth moved almost instantly; side glances followed her, and commentary and judgmental looks pierced her, making her want to vanish into thin air. She didn't let the thought of running away take hold. She instantly recognized the woman standing near the marble fountain, Lady Evelyn Ward, whose husband’s firm was silently bleeding cash, flute glasses in hand, talking with Marcus Sterling; he had dark circles under his eyes from lack of sleep, which she thought was because of the summer market crash that took a toll on him. Evelyn leaned closer to Marcus. "Look at poor Katherine," Evelyn murmured, her eyes darkening. "She poured her entire life into that girl, only to keep an icy viper under her roof." Marcus rubbed his neck, eyes darting anxiously toward security. "Sickening, to forge slips under her dead father's name? Look at Tara's face—no tears, no shame, just raw arrogance. Julian should have thrown her out months ago." Tara's eyes landed on the grand terrace; Victoria Cross stood there, speaking to her circle with sharp amusement. "Well, that was magnificent," Victoria said with a cruel smirk, raising her glass. "Katherine didn’t just cut her down—she butchered her. A girl with no instinct for blood has no business on a throne." Tara absorbed their venom without flinching. Her face remained calm, chin high. She may seem heartless, cold-hearted to them because she doesn’t wear her heart on her sleeve. They mistake her silence for cold arrogance, but it's the profound warmth and certainty of a woman who knows her own truth: their whispers are cheap shadows, and she will not beg for mercy in a room already morally bankrupt. She couldn’t stand them, so she decided to scan the room for a family member, and she caught hold of her mother She stood at the side of the dais, shaking hands with one of the company's board members, saying “It’s Kate” instead of Katherine, her full name. Her mother giving away her nickname like that made it seem like they were getting along. Tara felt her mother had every right to talk with the company’s board member because she is a grieving widow who has sacrificed everything to keep the family running, and she felt she deserved it. Her mother looked more radiant than ever in her dove-white and grey silk gown; it matched her glowing white skin, which seemed to age less since she started retinoid treatment once every two months. It was like she never aged at all. Behind that flawless, delicate façade lived a mind far more dangerous than anyone else would have guessed. Katherine couldn’t bear being subordinate to anyone, let alone watching Tara take over the company and control the reins of the family wealth; it threatened her sense of place and sparked an intolerable jealousy toward Tara, who was slipping away as wealth entered her life. In Katherine’s world, generosity is a weapon of control, not an act of grace. The room quieted as Julian Vance walked to the podium; it was left empty except for the decoration and the flowers that hung along the borders of the banner. He clicked his glasses to get everyone's attention. He said, “Can I have your attention, please, gentlemen and women?” and every head turned towards him. The foundation trustees and others gathered around him before the podium, and Julian started to talk about his company’s history: “This company was started twenty-four years ago by my beloved Arthur Vance and me.” She remembers her father laughing with his peers, saying, “Veritas et Integritas, Brian.” Curious, she asked what it meant; he said, “Truth and Integrity.” She learned many things from her father, including how to uphold truth and live with integrity. She came back to the ballroom as Vance continued, “We put our sweat and heart into this work for the welfare of the people in this community. We channeled money into education, real-world relief, and treating our work as honor instead of work.” His speech filled the ballroom. Katherine saw Tara approach the front; she offered her a loving smile and pressed her white hands to her heart. Tara was about to step toward the podium, ready to take her seat beside Julian, but before Julian could step onto the podium, Katherine rose from her chair, a soft gasp escaping her lips. Julian... please," Katherine whispered, her voice suddenly shaking out of nowhere, and with urgency she moved towards Julian and stood beside him. A tear rolled down her cheek. "Before you sign the deed of trust... I cannot stay silent anymore. I tried to hide this, but I cannot let you do this." The whole room fell silent, as if it could hold no more words. Julian froze, looking at her with brows furrowed. "Katherine? What is the matter?" Tara turned around, confused, her eyes refusing to blink and her heart skipping a beat. “Mother! What are you talking about?" Katherine stepped back as if Tara’s question had struck her. She looked down at the assembled patrons, her lower lip quivering as if she'd been masters of rehearsed sorrow. “I have protected Tara because she is my own child, but seeing you hand over the foundation… the funds are meant to help people, families, and community in need… You’ll know Tara has a dark pride inside her. She cannot be trusted with money meant to serve people. Whispers rippled across the ballroom. “What are you talking about, Katherine?” Julian asked, his voice turning cold and serious. Katherine opened her small peacock-blue purse with white crystal beads and pulled out an old velvet box. Tara’s breath caught in her throat. It was her box, which she kept locked in her cupboard. Her mind filled with pain as she thought about why my own mother would get it, too, to a public hall? But she didn't understand how deep it went; confusing thoughts consumed her. She had it since she was eighteen, filled with her childhood letters and some papers about her father’s business. Her father had been the only radiant sun in Tara’s life, loving her unconditionally, without conditions or transactional games. When he became ill, his health failed him, and his firm collapsed. Tara quietly absorbed his obligations, paying off his debt from her own savings. She did it to protect his dignity so he could pass away with honor and rest in peace. It was an act of profound devotion, and an act of emotional debt she carried in silence. She told her mother the truth, even cried long ago, trusting she would keep it safe. Now, Katherine opened the box with melodramatic trembling, as if opening it hurt her, as it did to Tara when she silently paid off her savings to cover her father’s debt, with no one to carry it but her. She lifted the papers and held them up for everyone to see. "Tara has secret debts," Katherine wept softly, leaning on another guest as if she were too weak to stand. "She secretly moved money from our family accounts to pay them off. I found the forged papers this morning. She has always been cold and greedy. If you give her the charity, she will ruin this family." Tara was stunned by the words coming out of her own mother’s mouth. She thinks maybe she misunderstood me. The air caught in her throat, and she settled into something else: the dread weight of the silent room. “That is not the truth,” Tara yells. “Those were Father's old debts from a year ago! I never touched the foundation's money!"