4: 4
Following my gaze, Mom and Dad gave me a small nod.
"When you smashed that teapot just now, we already had it arranged."
Joy broke over me and the tears came, and I let go of every last worry.
To the Gilberts, the three of us standing together looked like surrender, like backing down, and their arrogance flared even higher.
Fabian stepped forward, his crisp suit lending him the air of someone looking down on us.
"Douglas Pruitt, I'll give you one last chance. Apologize in front of everyone right now, and the wedding goes ahead, and both families keep the peace."
I raised my eyes, not a ripple in them, and asked back coldly, "Or what?"
Fabian gave a scornful snort.
"Or, with the class you people have, don't even dream of holding your ground in business or in this circle again. Half the Pruitts' connections, resources, and projects are all in Patrick's hands now. Learn to read the room."
Layla stood there with a glass in hand, her face all mockery and disdain.
I heard him out, and instead of getting angry, a low laugh slipped out of me.
"The only reason Patrick got where he is today is that he's my fiancé, Kayla Pruitt's fiancé, my father's son-in-law!"
"Take away the Pruitts holding him up, and he's nothing."
At that, Layla's wrist jerked, and most of the blush-pink champagne in her glass sloshed over the rim.
Once the shock passed, her head snapped back, her shoulders shaking, and she burst out laughing.
"You mean it? A dying girl who can't even drink sugar water? Or that crippled old man of a father?"
Nearby, Rebecca watched, tears rolling down one after another, and gave Layla's sleeve a gentle tug.
"Auntie Gilbert, this is my fault. Please don't blame Kaykay, and please don't be hard on Uncle and Auntie Pruitt..."
The whole hall of guests sighed at that.
"The Gilberts really did take in a sweet, sensible girl who knows how to repay kindness."
Layla only cupped Rebecca's hand more fondly in hers, her gaze sweeping over me with contempt.
"Good girl. You're the only one with any sense. You and my Patrick, now that's a match made for each other."
She paused, then added in a low voice, pitched just loud enough for me and the people around me to hear.
"Look at Kayla, half-dead already. She probably hasn't got much time left."
Something twisted in my chest. I wasn't even dead yet, and they'd already settled on the next wife.
They'd forgotten, it seemed, that without the Pruitts they were nothing more than the men who drove Dad's car.
I lifted my hands and gave a few claps.
"Good. Very good. Then let me show you exactly who dies first!"
I reached into my pocket for my phone, ready to unlock it and have my secretary announce what I'd arranged.
But the next second, a vicious slap came whipping straight at my face.
The crack of it exploded across the wedding hall.
The force was stunning. Half my head rang all at once, my eardrum shuddering.
A hot, stinging burn spread across my cheek and raced up into my scalp.
My vision blurred and went black, the room spun, and I dropped hard onto the marble floor.
The last thing I heard before I lost consciousness was my parents' anguished screams.
...
Patrick stood frozen where he was, staring at his own palm, still numb from the blow.
Rebecca held his hand and gasped softly, "Pat, does it hurt? Kaykay just doesn't know any better. It isn't your fault."
Patrick's throat worked as he forced down the panic and reassured himself. "Right. Kayla was in the wrong first."
In the space of a few seconds, he had his composure back.
He raised a hand and smoothly soothed the guests. "Everyone, eat, drink, enjoy yourselves. It's fine, it's all fine."
The instant those words left his mouth, the phone in his pocket buzzed violently.
Patrick took three calls.
With each one, his face went a shade paler, his limbs a degree stiffer.
By the time the third call ended, the blood in him had frozen solid, and he crashed down onto the shattered glass.
