Carlie Bean POV:
The world plunged into chaos. Screams erupted, echoing through the grand ballroom as people scrambled, pushing and shoving to get away from the falling chandelier. Everything happened in a blur, a terrifying montage of flashing lights and terrified faces.
Gage, who had been trying to grab my arm, suddenly froze. His eyes widened, not looking at me, but past me, towards the direction of the collapsing chandelier.
Then, with a force that sent me stumbling, he shoved me away.
"Get back!" he yelled, his voice raw with panic.
My feet slid on the polished floor, sending me crashing to my knees. The sapphire dress, already stained, tore a little at the hem. The impact jarred my still-fragile body, a sharp pain shooting through my lower back.
But before I could even register the pain, I saw it.
Gage, not rushing to help me, but sprinting, full speed, towards Brylee.
She was standing frozen near the center of the room, her eyes wide with terror, directly in the path of the plummeting chandelier.
He reached her in an instant, throwing his body over hers, shielding her with his own.
A deafening crash echoed through the room as the massive crystal fixture hit the ground, sending a shower of glittering shards across the ballroom.
A collective gasp, then a chilling silence.
Dust and debris filled the air, obscuring the scene.
My heart stopped.
He chose her. Again. Even in the face of death, he chose her.
The pain in my back was nothing compared to the agony that ripped through my soul.
I watched, paralyzed, as Gage slowly pushed himself up, Brylee still safe beneath him. He was covered in dust, a trickle of blood running down his forehead, but he was alive. And so was she.
He looked at her, his eyes filled with a primal relief, a tenderness that twisted the knife deeper in my heart.
He didn't even glance my way.
I was nothing. Less than nothing. A casualty of his misplaced loyalty.
A sharp pain shot through my ankle as I tried to stand, a searing agony that made me cry out. I looked down and saw a jagged piece of crystal embedded in my flesh, a bright red bloom seeping into the expensive silk of my dress.
But no one noticed. No one cared.
All eyes were on Gage and Brylee, the dramatic rescue, the heroic act.
A kind, elderly hand reached out to me. It was Gage's grandmother, her face etched with worry.
"Carlie, darling, are you alright?" she asked, her voice trembling.
I looked at her, tears blurring my vision. "I'm fine, Grandma," I lied, my voice hoarse. "Just a little shaken."
She helped me up, her gaze falling on my injured ankle. "Oh, my dear, you're bleeding! Let's get you to the first aid station."
As she led me away, I glanced back. Gage was still cradling Brylee, whispering reassurances to her. He hadn't even looked for me. My husband, who had just promised to cherish me, had chosen his mistress over me, again.
The necklace he had given me, the one Brylee had mocked, felt like a lead weight around my neck. With a fierce, almost savage tug, I ripped it off, the clasp breaking. I looked at the glittering diamonds, a symbol of his hollow promises, and hurled it across the room. It landed with a soft clatter in a pile of debris, lost and forgotten.
"I need to leave," I said to his grandmother, my voice trembling.
"Of course, dear," she said, her eyes filled with sorrow. "I understand. I'll make sure a car is ready for you."
As I limped towards the exit, my body aching, my heart bleeding, a figure emerged from the shadows, blocking my path.
It was Brylee, her crimson dress slightly torn, but otherwise unharmed. Her eyes, however, glowed with a malicious triumph.
"Leaving so soon, Carlie?" she purred, her voice chillingly sweet. "The party's just getting started."
"Get out of my way, Brylee," I said, my voice low and dangerous.
She laughed, a harsh, grating sound. "Oh, but I just wanted to tell you something. You know, about Gage. He told me he found you... boring. That you were easy to manipulate. And that all those little secrets you shared with him, those intimate moments... he told me everything."
My blood ran cold. The thought of Gage betraying my deepest vulnerabilities to this woman, to his mistress, made me sick to my stomach.
"He told me about your little... fantasies," she continued, her voice dropping to a whisper, filled with a twisted delight. "How you imagined him, how you wanted him to touch you. He said you were so predictable, so easy to please."
A wave of shame, hot and overwhelming, washed over me. My face burned. My body trembled with a mixture of rage and humiliation.
"You're lying," I choked out, though a part of me knew she wasn't.
"Am I?" she scoffed, a cruel smile playing on her lips. "Ask him. Or better yet, look at this."
She pulled out her phone, her thumb gliding across the screen. She held it up, displaying a series of photos. Private photos. Photos of me. Intimate photos, taken during moments of profound vulnerability, moments I thought were sacred, shared only with Gage.
My gasps were stolen by the sounds of footsteps approaching. Brylee, with a sudden, dramatic flourish, threw her phone to the ground, scattering the images for everyone to see. Then, with a theatrical cry, she deliberately stumbled, falling to the floor.
"She attacked me!" Brylee shrieked, her voice echoing through the stunned silence of the gala. "She's gone mad!"
