The hall glowed with white flowers and soft music. I took the mic and said,
“There’s someone I need to honor—my mother, Alice.”
A photo of us polishing the crystal glasses lit up the screen. Then came the video.
Sandra’s voice rang out:
“If Jennifer wants to honor someone, it should be me. Time to get rid of Alice’s precious memories.”
Gasps filled the room as the footage showed her smashing each glass, laughing.
When the lights came back on, all eyes turned to Sandra. She sat frozen, pale, exposed.
I lifted my chin.
“Fortunately, what you saw was only a replica. The real crystal set is safe—thanks to Aunt Marlene.”
Right on cue, Marlene entered, carrying the original glasses on a silver tray. They sparkled under the lights, scattering rainbows across the ceiling. Applause erupted.
My father stood, his voice cold and final.
“Pack your things. We’re done.”
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