Page 55 of One Night with Cinderella

The woman smiled, but it did not replace the anger in her eyes. “You lived and worked in my home for five years, so don’t convince yourself I hate you.”

“And please don’t convince yourself that I was envious of you,” Monica countered. “Because if it was my intention to come between Gabe and your family, then I would have revealed to him that he and his brother were under surveillance at the direction of you, your husband or both.”

Nicolette looked surprised at Monica knowing that.

Monica looked down at the floor and smiled as she copied the woman’s move and walked behind her to stand on her other side. “Tonight is not the night for this. After those five years working and living in your home, I know you are a woman who holds dear decorum and appropriate behavior,” she said. “Tonight is huge for me and my foundation. A celebration. Not an opportunity to belittle me to my face, to judge my relationship with your son or to manipulate me into doing something that suits you. So out of respect for Gabe, as his mother, I am asking you to leave and let me enjoy the night. You’re welcome to stay and appreciate the festivities, but please leave if your goal is to make me feel beneath you.”

Nicolette stopped a passing waiter and set her near-empty flute on the tray. “I’ll leave,” she said. “You’re right. I was out of line. Accept my apology for that. But still heed my warning. Anything serious between you and Gabe will not work or last.”

“Have a good night, Nicolette,” Monica said.

“I can see in your eyes that you know I’m right.”

Monica said nothing, hating that the woman spoke to her very insecurities about her relationship with Gabe. “Good night,” she repeated, her tone firm.

In the glass, she watched the reflection of the woman finally turn and retreat.

Monica closed her eyes and shook her head a little as she pinched the bridge of her nose. The urge to pull her phone from her clutch and call Gabe came, but she pushed the idea away. The disappointment of him missing most of the night stung. Truly, she didn’t even want to hear his voice. Not even enough to tell him his mother had just ambushed her.

Now she really felt like Cinderella, complete with a wicked stepmother.

Just no Prince Charming.

“Ready?”

She opened her eyes at the sound of Montgomery’s voice. In the glass, she shifted her gaze to the reflection of the four women standing behind her. Choice, Montgomery, Kylie and Nylah. Her team. Each had worked so hard to make the night a success. She was grateful for each one. Professional alliances had become friendships.

And even that was a sign of her healing from her past. She’d never seen the need to make friends when she’d never known when her time at that particular group home or foster family would end.

With a deep breath, she turned to face them, knowing the time had come. She had walked the red carpet. Effortlessly avoided questions about her father and about her relationship with Gabe. Pretended not to be starstruck by the long list of A-list actors and singers, celebrities, and social media influencers Montgomery and her team had convinced to attend. Greeted her guests at the carnival-style event that she’d completely co-opted from the Cress Family Foundation gala she’d attended. Made the rounds. Taken photos with the fifty foster care children who had been awarded funds to help them transition to adulthood.

And now the biggest test was next.

“Yes,” she said, feeling nervous. “It’s now or never.”

Together the ladies walked through the crowd of the Fifth Avenue venue with its 360-degree view of the metropolis at night. After Montgomery motioned for the live band to slow and lower its upbeat music, Monica took the microphone she handed her. She looked on at the colorful lighting, abundant floral arrangements and room filled with elegantly dressed people, there to support her vision. She pressed her free hand against her belly hoping to settle the butterflies.

“Good evening, everyone,” she said. “Just a quick break in the evening to thank you all for attending tonight’s event and for the money we raised from your generous donations that will allow us to fund our very important effort to financially support young adults who, like myself, were aged out of the foster care system and left to figure it out on their own—a scary effort, I promise you.”

She paused, hating how in that moment she would love to look out at the edge of the crowd and see Gabe standing there. Watching her. Willing her to fight her fear and press on. Quickly her eyes scanned the parts of the crowd she could see. She was disappointed but unsurprised to not see him. It stung.

“To date we have been able to assist more than one hundred such fearless people with their dreams to grow beyond their circumstances. I cannot thank you all enough for your support. I am moved beyond words and honored beyond measure...whatever the reason,” she added, knowing that many of the celebrities were in attendance out of allegiance to her father and pity at her story.

Servers filed into the room, carrying trays of crystal flutes filled with champagne. Monica accepted one. “I just want to thank my entire team for their support and all of you for ensuring a successful launch of this nonprofit foundation,” she said, raising her glass high in the air. “Here’s to The Bridge.”

“The Bridge,” everyone said in unison.

She smiled, turning to touch her glass to those Choice, Montgomery, Kylie and Nylah held, before finally taking a deep sip as the room filled with applause. With one final smile, Monica handed over the microphone as Montgomery motioned for the band to resume their playing. Fraught with nerves and unsure if she’d said the right things, and wondering what these strangers whispered about her, she made her way across the room and onto the elevator to reach the roof.

The chill immediately surrounded her, and she shivered as she released a stream of breath that was visible in the frosty air. She allowed herself a moment to pretend the cold was nothing as she thought of her life just a year ago and how everything—everything—had changed.

“Thank you,” she whispered up to the heavens.

She looked out at the city. The lights amid the darkness. The pockets of warmth in the cold. The snow blanketing the streets and the tops of the sky-high buildings. The familiar noise. She loved Manhattan. It helped to heal her. Gave her a place to finally call home.

She would love nothing more than to share this moment with—

“Monica.”

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