Chapter 4 - The Shattered Mirror
The rehearsal dinner was held at a private estate in the countryside, a place designed for fairy tales.
Brooke wore white lace, looking like a porcelain doll. She watched Julian like a hawk. I arrived in my wheelchair, a ghost at the feast, but I wasn't alone. I had Julian’s lawyer and a private investigator standing in the foyer.
The tension was suffocating. Every guest seemed to sense it, the air thick with the unspoken knowledge that something was going to break.
Brooke approached me, her smile tight. “You look tired, Claire. Maybe you should go upstairs and rest. You don't want to make a scene.”
“I’m not making a scene, Brooke,” I said, my voice steady for the first time in years. “I’m just here to watch.”
Julian walked into the room, holding a glass of champagne. He stopped in the center of the hall, the silence rippling out from him. He didn't toast. He didn't smile.
“I have an announcement,” Julian said. His voice wasn't loud, but it cut through the room like a blade.
Brooke lunged for him, her face twisting in panic. “Julian, don’t! You’re drunk!”
He stepped back, holding his phone up. He tapped a button, and the room was filled with the sound of a rainy night, the roar of an engine, and Brooke’s screeching voice: “I’m not the one who’s going to prison, Claire! You’re the driver! You’re the responsible one! If you don’t swap seats right now, I’ll tell them you were the one drinking!”
The recording ended.
May you like
The room went deathly silent. Brooke stood frozen, the color draining from her face, her lace dress suddenly looking like a costume.
“You did it,” Julian whispered, loud enough for the microphone to catch. “You pushed her onto the tracks, and you made her take the fall for your recklessness. And then, at the party, you tried to finish the job.”
