The Mischievous Mrs. Maxfield

Chapter Thirty-Two: All That Is Shattered

A/N: Hi everyone! I know it's only been a few days since the last update but I think we're all on the edge of our seats, wondering just where this all going to go. So here's the next chapter. 

This is shorter but it's going to spin us on our heads, I think. 

Thank you to all who found strength in Charlotte's character. I think in this chapter, we're all going to remember that despite all the things we admire about her, she's just as human as the rest of us. 

Don't forget to vote and comment! =)

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When the Maxfields threw a party, they really threw a party.

The family's old but magnificent neo-classical mansion was already a highly coveted real-estate piece with its history and sheer size—a rare find in the bustling heart of downtown. In the muted dusk, the grand house seemed to glow and shimmer. To be admitted behind its gates alone was quite a privilege.

The fact that the celebration was for Martin Maxfield's birthday made the event a definite must in the calendar of anyone who was financially, politically and socially important in the city, if not the country.

For all his normally buoyant yet occasionally sly tendencies, Martin was a well-respected figure in the business world, having gained the favor of both the private and public sectors. 

It was no surprise that all kinds of people turned out. 

I expected businessmen, politicians, celebrities, socialites, and all kinds of important people.

What I didn't expect was... my mother.

Louisa Samuels in the flesh.

"Charlotte? Are you okay?"

The sound of Brandon's voice seemed warbled and dulled, as if he were somehow speaking to me through a bottle.

I blinked and glanced up at him, his handsome face, creased with concern, coming into focus.

"I need to... I need to leave." My voice was no better—it was raspy and broken and trembling at some parts.

I vaguely noticed Brandon's large, warm hand settle on my shoulder. "Babe, what's wrong?"

"She's here," I whispered, backing up a step only to be reminded by the cold, hard wall behind me that there was nowhere to go. I was trapped in a small, discreet alcove where I'd run for cover the moment I caught sight of her face in the crowd. 

I was such a coward but what was I supposed to do?

My mother was so far removed from my reality that she may as well be literally a ghost from my past.

Except that ghosts blur with the smoky fringes of the other world. Your mother looks vividly real.

 A sense of panic was surging up through me like a nasty acid reflex and I wrestled my shoulder away from Brandon’s firm grip, wanting nothing more but to get away—to dissolve into the wall if I had to.

He wouldn’t let go though. He kept staring at me as if I were a really complicated Math problem he was sure he’d solved before. He didn’t understand that I had to go.

“She’s here,” I hissed urgently, clamping a hand around Brandon’s wrist and wrenching his grip loose. “I don’t know how… I have to go.”

Scowling, he effectively blocked me from where I would’ve launched into a sprint, cradling me close to his side as he swept his gaze around the vast room full of guests.