CHAPTER 36: THE TAUNTS

One week.

Seven days since Victoria had frozen every account, cut every card, and effectively erased Sophia from the world of financial comfort she’d known her entire life.

Seven days of borrowing money from friends, making excuses, and watching her perfectly curated life slowly crumble around the edges.

But she was handling it. She was fine. This was all temporait... just another one of Mother’s dramatic gestures that would blow over once Daddy talked sense into her.

At least, that’s what she kept telling herself as she sat at their usual table at Meridian, the upscale bistro where her friend group met every Tuesday for lunch.

"So I’m thinking the Hamptons house this weekend," Jennifer was saying, twirling her salad fork between manicured fingers. "Daddy just had the pool redone, and the weather’s supposed to be perfect."

"Sounds amazing," Sophia replied automatically, though her stomach clenched.

The Hamptons meant expensive dinners, designer shopping trips, and activities that required the kind of casual spending she could no longer afford.

Marcus nodded approvingly. "I’ll bring the yacht up Friday morning. We can make a whole thing of it."

"Perfect," Tyler agreed. "I’ll handle the catering. That new place in East Hampton does incredible seafood spreads."

Everyone was nodding, making plans, discussing details with the easy confidence of people who’d never had to check their bank balance before making a decision.

"Soph, you’re handling the wine, right?" Jennifer’s voice cut through her thoughts like a blade. "It’s supposed to be your turn anyway."

Sophia’s throat went dry. "I... well, I might be..."

"Oh wait." Jennifer’s eyes sparkled with something that looked suspiciously like malicious glee. "I forgot. Didn’t you guys tell me her mother disowned her?"

The table went silent.

Every fork stopped moving. Every conversation died. Five pairs of eyes turned to stare at Sophia with expressions ranging from curiosity to barely concealed amusement.

"She didn’t disown me," Sophia said quickly, her cheeks burning. "She just... it’s a temporary thing. A misunderstanding."

"A misunderstanding?" Jennifer’s perfectly glossed lips curved into a smile. "That’s what we’re calling it? Because from what I heard, you’ve been cut off completely. Cards frozen, accounts locked, the whole nine yards."

"Jennifer..." Marcus started, but there was no real warning in his voice. If anything, he looked intrigued.

"What?" Jennifer spread her hands innocently. "I’m just asking! I mean, if Sophia can’t afford her share anymore, we should know, right? It’s not fair to expect the rest of us to cover for her indefinitely."

The word ’cover’ hit Sophia like a slap. As if she were some charity case they were graciously supporting.

"You bitch," Sophia snarled, her composure finally cracking. "She just froze my cards temporarily. It’s not like I’m actually broke or something."

"Right." Jennifer’s voice was sweet as poison. "So you’ll be able to handle the wine then? The good stuff, not some discount grocery store garbage?"

Sophia opened her mouth to respond, but no words came. Because they both knew the truth... she couldn’t afford the kind of wine Jennifer was talking about. The kind that cost more than most people made in a month.

"It’s been a week, baby," Jennifer continued, her voice dropping to a mock-whisper. "And from where I’m sitting, it doesn’t look like it’s ending anytime soon."

The silence stretched between them, thick with tension and barely concealed cruelty.

"Okay, okay, stop." Marcus finally intervened, but his tone suggested he was more annoyed by the drama than concerned for Sophia. "I’ll handle the wine. And Soph... did you get that Tiffany’s necklace for your mom?"

She didn’t answer. Couldn’t.

"I’ll take care of it," Marcus said. "Once her anger fades, we’ll be normal again."

Sophia stared at the piece of plastic, her vision blurring with rage and humiliation.

A week ago, she would have laughed at the suggestion that she needed someone else’s credit card. A week ago, she was the one offering to pay for everyone else.

"Tch." Jennifer made a small, disgusted sound. "Gold digger."

The words hit Sophia like a physical blow.

Gold digger.

Her. Sophia Blackwood. The only daughter of a billionaire senator and tech mogul. The heiress to one of America’s most powerful families.

Being called a gold digger by Jennifer fucking Vanderbilt.

"What did you just say?" Sophia’s voice was deadly quiet.

"You heard me." Jennifer’s smile was razor-sharp. "Taking handouts from Marcus, begging for money to buy your way back into mommy’s good graces. If that’s not gold digging, what is?"

Sophia slammed her palm against the table so hard their water glasses jumped.

"How DARE you?" she hissed, her voice shaking with fury. "I am a BLACKWOOD. My family has more money than your pathetic media empire could ever dream of. I don’t need handouts from anyone!"

"Really?" Jennifer leaned back in her chair, clearly enjoying herself. "Because from where I’m sitting, it looks like you need handouts from everyone. "

Each word was carefully chosen, designed to cut deep. And they did.

"I am not a gold digger," Sophia repeated, but her voice had lost its edge. She sounded desperate now, pleading.

"Of course not, sweetheart." Jennifer’s tone was patronizing, the kind of voice you’d use with a confused child. "You’re just... temporarily financially embarrassed. Right?"

The table erupted in barely suppressed snickers.

Sophia looked around at her friends... her supposed friends... and saw nothing but entertainment in their eyes. They were enjoying this. Her humiliation, her desperation, her fall from grace.

They were enjoying it all.

Without another word, she grabbed her purse and stormed out of the restaurant, their laughter following her like a pack of hyenas.