Carlie Bean POV:
The world spun. My head reeled. Brylee's theatrical shriek, her accusation, rang in my ears, louder than the lingering echoes of the chandelier's crash. The scattered images on her phone, explicitly displaying my most vulnerable moments, seared into my mind. I stood there, frozen, my body trembling not just from pain, but from a humiliation so profound it felt physical.
Gage appeared, his face tight with concern, rushing past me to Brylee' s side. He didn't even glance at me. His priority, as always, was her.
"Brylee! What happened?" he demanded, his voice thick with anxiety as he knelt beside her, checking for injuries she clearly didn' t have.
She pointed a trembling finger at me, her eyes wide and tearful, a masterclass in feigned victimhood. "She… she pushed me! She's crazy, Gage! She's jealous!"
Gage' s gaze finally snapped to me, filled with a cold, accusatory fury. "Carlie, what have you done?"
"I didn't touch her," I said, my voice barely a whisper, hoarse with disbelief. "She threw her phone, she fell..."
He didn't believe me. I saw it in his eyes, the immediate dismissal.
"You're lying!" he roared, standing up, his towering presence suddenly menacing. "Are you really so desperate that you would attack her in front of everyone? After everything we've been through?"
"Everything we've been through?" I echoed, a bitter, hysterical laugh escaping my lips. "You mean everything you've done to me? You told her... you told her everything about us, didn't you? My secrets, my body, my very soul? Is that what you call a relationship, Gage? A confessional for your mistress?"
His face flushed, a flicker of guilt in his eyes, but it was quickly replaced by anger. "That's enough, Carlie! You're making a scene! You're embarrassing yourself!"
"Embarrassing myself?" I scoffed, gesturing wildly at the stained dress, the injured ankle, the lingering stench of Brylee's lies. "You think I can be embarrassed anymore, Gage? You' ve stripped me of everything. My dignity, my joy, my children. What' s left to lose?"
Brylee, sensing her victory, let out a soft moan. "My head hurts, Gage. I think I need to lie down."
Gage immediately turned his attention back to her, scooping her up into his arms as if she were a fragile doll. He held her close, whispering reassurances, his back to me.
"Take her to my car," he ordered one of his security guards, who instantly materialized. "And get her to the hospital. Make sure she has the best care."
As he turned to follow them, I found my voice again, raw with a pain that transcended physical wounds.
"You're just going to leave me here, Gage?" I cried out, my voice cracking. "After everything? After you literally threw me aside for her?"
He paused, his back still partially turned. He glanced over his shoulder, his eyes cold and hard.
"You brought this upon yourself, Carlie," he said, his voice devoid of any warmth. "You make your bed, you lie in it."
Then he looked at his security detail, a group of burly men in black suits who had been silently observing the entire spectacle.
"Take her home," he commanded, his gaze sweeping over me with a chilling indifference. "And make sure she doesn't leave the premises. She needs to calm down. For everyone's sake."
The last words were punctuated by the roar of an engine as Brylee, in Gage' s arms, was driven away.
My jaw dropped. He wasn't sending me home; he was imprisoning me.
Two of the guards stepped forward, their faces impassive, their posture rigid. They took my arms, their grip firm, unyielding.
"I can walk," I said, trying to pull away, but their strength was undeniable.
They led me out of the gala, past the still-whispering guests, the curious stares, the pitying glances. Each step was a fresh wound, a reminder of my utter helplessness. The shard of crystal in my ankle throbbed, but I barely noticed. The pain in my heart eclipsed it all.
They drove me back to the penthouse, a silent, suffocating journey. Once inside, they escorted me to my bedroom, the door clicking shut behind them, the sound echoing the finality of my imprisonment.
I was alone again, trapped in a gilded cage that had now become a prison cell.
The night stretched before me, long and dark, filled with the ghosts of what might have been.
I collapsed onto the bed, the sapphire dress a crumpled mess around me, stained with wine, blood, and tears. The world outside was a blurry, indifferent canvas. My mind replayed Brylee's words, her photos, Gage's betrayal.
I closed my eyes, the image of his face, devoid of love, seared into my memory.
He wanted me to calm down?
He wanted me to accept this?
Never.
A cold, hard resolve, born from the ashes of my shattered heart, began to take root.
I would not break. I would not succumb.
I would escape. And when I did, I would never look back.
