“It is a tragedy,” Arthur said, his voice gravelly. He set down his wine glass with a heavy clink. “A damn tragedy. My great-grandson. Gone before he even took a breath.”
He looked at me, his gaze softening. “I am truly sorry, Karylle. I know how much you wanted that child.”
“Thank you, Grandfather,” I said quietly, keeping my eyes on my plate. I pushed a pea around with my fork. I had barely eaten a bite.
Then, Arthur’s gaze snapped to Nathan, and the softness vanished. It was replaced by the cold fury of a titan.
“But what I cannot understand,” Arthur growled, “is how this happened. I was told you were at the company party. I was told there were drivers available. Why in God’s name was your secretary driving my granddaughter-in-law while intoxicated?”
Danica, sitting across from me, shrank into her chair. She was wearing a modest black dress, looking every bit the repentant sinner. She had been invited because she was "family," a decision that made my stomach churn.
“It was a mistake, sir,” Danica whispered, her voice trembling. “I… I thought I was fine to drive. I just wanted to help Karylle get home.”
“Help her?” Arthur slammed his hand on the table, making the silverware jump. “You put her in the hospital! You killed my heir! You call that help?”
“Grandpa, please,” Nathan interjected, leaning forward. His jaw was tight. “Calm down. It’s not doing anyone any good to point fingers. Danica feels terrible. She’s been beating herself up about it for days. It was an accident. The roads were slick.”
“The roads were fine!” Arthur barked. “The driver was the problem. Why didn’t you drive, Nathan? Or hire a car?”
“I had to stay back with the investors,” Nathan said smoothly. “You know how important the merger is. I couldn’t leave.”
“So you sent your pregnant wife home with a drunk girl?” Arthur shook his head in disgust.
“I told her I would drive,” I said.
The table went silent.
I didn’t look up. I kept staring at my plate. “I asked for the keys. I told them I was sober. But Danica insisted. She said no one drives her car but her.”
“Is that true?” Arthur demanded, glaring at Danica.
Danica’s face crumbled. “I… I don’t remember saying that. I was just… I was trying to be nice! I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!”
She burst into tears, burying her face in her hands. It was a masterful performance.
Nathan immediately reached over and squeezed her shoulder. “See? She’s a mess, Grandpa. Karylle, stop making it worse. She didn’t mean to.”
“She didn’t mean to,” Arthur repeated, his tone dripping with skepticism. He looked from Nathan to Danica, his eyes narrowing. “Just make sure this won’t happen again! I only want a grandchild, with Karylle, no one else,” he said as if warning Nathan of things he knew he was doing.
When the meal finally ended, I stood up immediately. I made it to the foyer before I heard footsteps running behind me.
“Karylle! Wait!” It was Danica.
“Karylle, please,” she panted. “You have to forgive me. I can’t stand you hating me. We used to be friends.”
“We were never friends, Danica,” I said coldly. “You were just my husband’s best friend’s sister.”
Her face hardened for a split second, the mask slipping, before she resumed her pleading look. She reached out to grab my arm.
“Don’t touch me,” I said, pulling away.
I turned to leave, but Danica suddenly stumbled back. She let out a sharp cry and fell to the floor, landing on her hip with a dramatic thud.
“Ouch!” she cried out.
“What the hell is going on here?”
Nathan appeared from the dining room, rushing over. He saw Danica on the floor and me standing over her.
“She pushed me!” Danica sobbed, clutching her ankle. “I just tried to apologize, and she shoved me!”
I stared at her in disbelief. It was so childish. So petty. And yet, so effective.
Nathan glared at me, his eyes blazing. “Are you serious, Karylle? You’re physically attacking her now? In my grandfather’s house?”
“I didn’t touch her,” I said calmly. “She threw herself on the floor.”
“Oh, come on!” Nathan scoffed. “Why would she do that? Look at her! She’s hurt!” He knelt down and helped Danica up, his arm lingering around her waist a little too long. “You’re out of control. You’re letting your grief turn you into a bitter, vindictive woman.”
“You know what?” I said, my voice quiet. “I’m tired of this game, Nathan.” I took a step closer to him. “Just choose, Nathan. Right now. Choose me or her.”
Nathan froze. He looked at me, then down at Danica, who was clinging to his arm like a limpet. He opened his mouth, then closed it. He looked trapped.
“I… Karylle, that’s ridiculous,” he stammered. “I can’t choose between my wife and my best friend’s sister. You’re both important to me.”
“That’s an answer,” I said.
I turned and walked out the front door into the cool night air.
I stood on the porch, taking deep gulps of oxygen, trying to stop the tears from falling. I wouldn’t cry for him. Not anymore.
“Karylle?”
A deep, familiar voice came from the shadows near the driveway.
I looked up. Leaning against a sleek black sedan was Martin—Danica’s older brother and Nathan’s best friend.
He looked different than I remembered. He had been away in London for the last year managing the overseas branch. He looked tired, his tie loosened, a cigarette in his hand.
“Martin,” I breathed.
He dropped the cigarette and crushed it under his heel. He walked over to me, his expression full of concern.
“I heard about the baby,” he said, his voice low and rough. “I… I don’t even know what to say. I’m so sorry, Karylle.”
Seeing him—someone who actually knew me, someone who had been kind to me in the early days before Danica poisoned everything—broke my composure. A single tear escaped.
“It’s… it’s been hard,” I whispered.
Martin didn’t hesitate. He pulled me into a hug.
It wasn’t like Nathan’s hugs. It was solid. Safe. He smelled like tobacco and expensive cologne. I buried my face in his shoulder for a moment, allowing myself to be weak.
“I’m sorry about Danica,” he murmured into my hair. “I heard she was driving. I swear to God, Karylle, if I had been here, I never would have let her behind the wheel. She’s… she’s a mess sometimes.”
We stood there for a moment, two people grieving in different ways.
Later that night, back at our house, I was sitting at my vanity, taking off my earrings. The reflection in the mirror showed a woman who looked ten years older than she was.
The door banged open.
“What the hell was that?” he demanded, slamming the door behind him. “...outside my grandfather’s house! With Martin!”
I frowned, turning to face him. “We were talking. He was offering his condolences. Unlike you, he actually seemed to care for our baby.”
“Condolences?” Nathan let out a harsh laugh. “Is that what you call it? You were practically climbing him! I saw you hugging him. I saw how you looked at him.”
He marched over to me, gripping the back of my chair. “Are you flirting with Martin? Is that it? You’re trying to get back at me by throwing yourself at my best friend?”
“Flirting?” I stood up, pushing his hand away. “He hugged me because I was crying, Nathan! Because my husband was too busy coddling the woman who killed our child to comfort me!”
“Don’t turn this around!” Nathan yelled. “I saw you! You’ve always had a soft spot for him, haven’t you? Is that why you’re so eager for a divorce? So you can run to him?”
The hypocrisy was suffocating. It was so thick I could taste it.
I looked at him, my eyes narrowing into slits.
“You’re asking me if I’m flirting with Martin?” I asked, my voice deadly calm. “Just because I hugged him? I was being comforted by him?”
I took a step forward, invading his space.
“Well, with what you’re saying… are you admitting that you’re also flirting with Danica?”
