(Abigale POV)
A stunned silence fell over the table. The only sound was the faint clinking of glasses from the bar. Holden looked at my grandmother's bracelet, his eyes wide. He knew exactly what it meant to me.
Dominique, however, clapped her hands, a triumphant glint in her eyes. "Oh, daring Abigale! I knew you had it in you!" She batted her eyelashes at me. "Don't worry, darling, I'll be gentle."
Darren cleared his throat, breaking the tension. "Alright, everyone. The rules are simple. Five card draw poker. Highest hand wins. Loser takes a shot, and their last placed item goes into the pot. If you fold, you're out. If you lose all your items, you're out. Last one standing takes everything." He looked around the table. "Understood?"
I just nodded, my face impassive. My heart pounded a frantic rhythm against my ribs, but my hands were steady.
The dealer, a professional hired for the event, began to shuffle the cards with practiced ease. The crisp snap of the cards was the only sound. He dealt five cards face down to each player.
Dominique fanned her cards, a slight smile playing on her lips. She had played poker before, I knew. She was good. Or at least, she thought she was.
Holden kept glancing at me. His gaze was heavy, a mix of confusion and something else I couldn't quite decipher. Guilt, maybe? Or just annoyance.
I met his gaze for a second, then looked away. His eyes still felt like an unwelcome pressure.
My own hands felt surprisingly clumsy as I picked up my cards. I fumbled them slightly, betraying a nervousness I didn't truly feel.
I heard a low murmur from the other guests. "She looks completely out of her depth." "Poor Abigale, she never plays." "Holden looks furious."
My face felt tight. I could feel the blood draining from it, leaving it pale and stark. I played the part. The fragile fiancée, shocked and overwhelmed.
Dominique caught my eye. She leaned forward, her voice a theatrical whisper. "Need some help, sweetie? I can teach you the basics." Her smile was condescending.
I ignored her. I focused on the cards in my hand. They were just cards. But they held immense power tonight.
The first round began. My hand was terrible. A pair of twos. I folded quickly, making sure to look resigned.
"Oh, too bad!" Dominique cooed. "Time for your first shot, Abigale!"
A waiter immediately brought over a tray with a shot glass filled with a dark liquid. It smelled strong.
Darren looked uneasy. "Dom, maybe a water instead?"
Holden's voice was sharp. "Just drink it, Abigale. Don't make a scene."
Dominique looked gleeful. She practically bounced in her seat. "And what will it be, Abigale? Your lovely necklace? Or that gorgeous watch Holden gave you?"
My stomach lurched. The necklace was sentimental, a gift from my grandmother for my graduation. The watch was a significant gift from Holden, but it wasn't the heirloom bracelet.
My mind went to my grandmother. How she had worn that bracelet every day. How she had told me stories about each tiny charm. The little book for her first novel, the camera for her passion for photography, the tiny airplane for her travels. It was her life, miniaturized. And now it was on this table for them to take.
I forced a wry smile. A bitter taste filled my mouth.
"The necklace," I said, my voice quiet. I pushed the delicate gold chain with its small, intricate locket across the table. It slid over the polished wood.
"Excellent choice," Dominique said, picking it up. She dangled it, admiring the way the gold caught the light. "Such a pretty little thing."
She wasn't even looking at me. She was looking at the necklace. As if it were already hers.
Holden's face was grim. He didn't say a word.
"Next round, then!" someone called out, eager to shift the focus.
The dealer dealt again. The game continued.
This time, Dominique got a moderately good hand. A straight. She won the round.
Holden, surprisingly, got the best hand. A full house. He scooped up the pot, which now included the diamond necklace and the sports car keys.
Dominique squealed with delight, throwing her arms around Holden. "You're the best, honey! My lucky charm!"
The other guests offered polite applause. They were enjoying the show, even if it was a train wreck.
"Holden's on fire!" "Who thought he was such a good player?"
"Tonight calls for something special," the dealer announced, looking at Holden who had won the highest hand. "The player with the highest hand gets to choose one item from any of the other players, directly from their person."
A collective gasp went through the room. This was a new rule. A cruel one.
Holden looked at Dominique. She looked at him, her eyes wide with a predatory hunger.
"Oh, Holden," she purred. "You know what I want. Don't you?"
Her eyes landed on my wrist. On the simple, unassuming silver bracelet. The one with my grandmother's life etched into its charms. The one I had put into the general pot, but she still wanted to claim it directly.
My blood ran cold. She knows. She had to know. The way she had looked at it earlier, the way she was looking at it now. It was deliberate.
Holden looked from Dominique to me. His face was unreadable.
The silence returned, heavier this time.
"Holden?" Dominique prompted, her voice edged with impatience.
My chest tightened. I could feel the tears welling up, but I refused to let them fall. Not here. Not now.
"Abigale, are you really going to make a fuss about a silly bracelet?" Dominique asked, her voice oozing with fake concern. "It's just a game, darling. Don't be a sore loser."
Holden finally spoke. His voice was flat. "Abigale. Just take it off."
The words sliced through me, sharper than any knife. My world tilted.
I felt a sudden, fierce rush of anger. A burning, cleansing fire.
