Page 55 of The Ring
After he leaves, I turn my phone on and see hundreds of messages wishing me a happy birthday—but none from the two people I was hoping for. Still, the day is just beginning, and maybe, wherever they are, it’s not my birthday yet.
Chapter 29
Cornelia
My party is at the Natural History Museum. Last year, I went to a wedding here, and ever since, I decided this would be where my next birthday party would be held.
“Wow,” Annabelle says as we see all from above. “Whoever your event planner is, she outdid herself, and I need her number so she can plan my wedding.”
I wanted to look around before being suffocated by people, so the first thing we did when we arrived was go up to the first floor to get an aerial view of everything.
Annabelle came over to my place so we could get ready together. She’s wearing a stunning silver dress with spaghetti straps that she designed herself, which I’m already planning to borrow.
I’m in a salmon-coloured dress with silver draped fabric at the bottom and embroidered dragons from Jean Paul Gaultier’s Autumn/Winter 2023 collection, black long boots from Saint Laurent, the Spider Lady Basket Earrings, a Black Opal Muse Ring on my left index finger, and a Snake Bite Ring on my left ringfinger—all three from Anthony Lent. And, of course, my Jessica McCormack ring on my right ring finger, like always.
It goes well with the cocktail dress code. I wanted it to be “wear whatever you want, as long as it’s nice,”but that left a lot open to interpretation, so I opted for that one. It also fits the party’s theme, which is silver and diamonds.
“I think I had already booked that job. And who says it was all just the event planner?” I ask her with a grin.
“I love you, but you don’t know the first thing about planning an event like this,” Annabelle answers.
Maybe not exactly like this—this is expert-level event planning. It’s a party for 300 people. The entire venue is decorated with white peonies in stunning floral arrangements; there’s a cake nearly as tall as I am, a full orchestra, silver fabric draped from the walls, and even the dinosaur skeleton on the ceiling is dressed up. I’ve attended plenty of events here and never seen anything like it. I don’t know what kind of permission she needed—or how much she paid—to make that happen. I must admit, I did give my input, but apart from that, I didn’t do much. But it’s my party—I’m supposed to just enjoy it.
“Hey,” I say, a little offended. She’s right, but every time someone tells me I can’t do something, I get defensive—because, in my mind, Icando anything. “I did plan a surprise birthday party for your fifteen birthday.”
She thinks for a second. “Wasn’t that the one where you tried to bake my birthday cake and ended up setting one of the kitchens at Edelweiss on fire?”
I lift my nose in the air. “I didn’t burn any kitchen. I just caused enough smoke to make it seem like I did,” I mumble the last part.
“Even though the cake was inedible, it was a nice gesture—and you did manage to get me a birthday free of classes,” Annabelle says, and we both laugh at the memory.
“Maybe that was my plan all along.” It wasn’t.
We reach the stairs, and I start preparing myself mentally to be suffocated by people for around the next two hours. There are already around 200 guests here, and most of them will approach me the moment they see me to congratulate me. As much as it’s my birthday party, it’s also a networking event—and I know that better than anyone.
I don’t consider myself an introvert, but I’m not exactly an extrovert either. Well, I’m with my friends and people I know. But most of these people? I don’t know them—at least, not really.
I much prefer the intimate after-party I used to have at my house with just The Heptad Society and my family. But with all the recent drama, I decided to skip it this year.
Annabelle feels my unease and offers me her arm, which I interlock with mine as we descend the stairs together. I spot Laurie standing by the right side of the staircase, and I subtly guide us in his direction.
“Wow, you both look stunning,” Laurie says as we approach him. His eyes shift between us, but they linger a little longer on Annabelle.
“Thank you,” Annabelle replies, blushing.
I’m pleased to see that whatever was going on between them seems to be resolved.
Laurie’s gaze returns to Annabelle, and he brings his hands to his lips, lingering there for a few seconds before he seems to remember I’m here. He abruptly turns to me and goes in for a hug. “Happy birthday.”
“Thanks,” I reply, and as we part, I hear someone calling, “Cornelia,” from behind me. I turn to see who it is and spot my Uncle Roland, accompanied by his wife, my Aunt Lana, making his way towards us.
Fuck.He’s already spotted me, so it’s too late to make an escape.
“Uncle Roland!” I say, mustering as much fake enthusiasm as I can when they reach us. Then I turn to my aunt with a genuine smile. “And Aunt Lana, how wonderful that you two could make it.” I don’t need to fake it with Lana—I actually do like her.
If heaven exists, my Aunt Lana already has her place secured there for putting up with my uncle. I don’t know why she married him—she’s really pretty: olive skin, black hair, black eyes, amazing body. You’d think it was for money, but she has plenty of her own as an oil heiress. Sometimes I wonder if she’s a masochist or if she just finds him oddly entertaining. Most of the time, I lean towards the latter because she’s certainly no pushover. But as much as it pains me, I have to give credit where credit is due—Roland is very attractive for his age: fit, black hair (though it’s dyed; his natural colour is blonde), and green eyes. So maybe she ignores all that he says and just looks at him. But then there are the details about my cousin’s appearance… So who knows?
“We’ve been looking all over for you to congratulate you, but Anthony mentioned you hadn’t arrived yet. I should have predicted it—women do take ages to get ready,” Roland says, and I have to resist the urge to roll my eyes. I hate misogynistic comments, even the stupid and unclever ones.
