Part 3: The Mask Falls
But Helen couldn't stand it. Seeing a helpless child crying out for his mother broke something inside her. It triggered the raw, agonizing maternal instinct she had suppressed for two decades.
Dropping her serving tray with a loud crash, Helen ran forward. She ignored the gasps of the elite guests. She fell to her knees on the polished marble floor, wrapping her arms tightly around the weeping boy, pulling him to her chest.
"It's okay, my son... Mommy's here," she whispered softly, soothing him. Though she was comforting the little boy, her eyes lifted, locking directly onto the groom. Her voice, filled with a deep, ancient pain, echoed through the suddenly breathless ballroom.
May you like
The entire room froze. The groom, Tony, stared at the maid. The color completely drained from his face. His hands began shaking violently, spilling his champagne glass onto the floor.
"...Helen?" Tony whispered, his voice cracking. "Mother?"
