Right then, Jessica stepped forward and reached for my hand, her voice soothing, almost maternal. “Nadia, what’s wrong? Nadia?” she said softly. “Don’t cry. It’s okay, it’s okay. Everyone’s just teasing you—they don’t mean any harm.”
She crouched down slightly, trying to meet my tear-filled eyes. “It’s fine, Nadia. Don’t be scared. I’m here.”
But her comforting tone couldn’t drown out the murmurs spreading through the hall.
“Is that Scott’s wife? First time seeing her at an event, and she’s already making a scene," a woman commented.
Another one added, “You don’t know? That’s the woman Donald Kennedy forced Scott to marry. They say she had a high fever as a kid, and it left her… not quite right in the head.”
The one right behind Jessica and Nadia even remarked, “Wow, so it’s true. She really is a fool. What on earth was Grandpa thinking? Jessica seems so much better—reasonable, beautiful, kind…”
Their whispers felt like daggers, each one slicing into me, leaving me raw and exposed. But through my tears, I forced myself to look at Jessica.