Chapter 4
Holly Carey POV
I picked up the bottle, its glass cool against my trembling hand. I spun it, watching it blur, then slow, finally pointing at myself. My turn again. I locked eyes with Javen. A cold, hard resolve set in.
Javen' s face paled. For the first time, he looked truly panicked. He lunged forward, grabbing my arm, his voice strained. "Holly, please. My head is really aching. I think it's the champagne with my antibiotics. I took a Cefixime earlier. I need to go to the hospital. Can we… can we stop this?" He tried to pull me to my feet, to create an escape.
I pulled my arm free, my smile thin and brittle. "No, Javen. We're just getting started."
I quickly navigated my phone. The screen flashed to life, projecting onto the large display. It wasn't a selfie or a vacation photo. It was a sterile, white hospital room. The date April 15th, three years ago, was clearly visible. The camera panned slightly, showing a medical information sheet taped to the wall: "Post-Miscarriage Care Instructions."
Then, a screenshot of a text message. A conversation with my mother.
"Mom, the doctor said there's a high risk of infertility now. My body... it's just not recovering."
"Oh, my poor girl," my mother's reply read. "Are you sure? We'll find the best doctors, Holly."
Another screenshot. A news article clipping. "Unidentified Driver Flees Scene After Hit-and-Run on Pacific Coast Highway. Victim in Critical Condition. Engagement Postponed."
The silence in the room was absolute, heavier than any I had ever experienced.
I remembered that day. Three years ago. The day we were supposed to get our marriage license. We were on our way, in Javen' s car. He was driving, laughing, excited. Then, a blur. A sudden swerve. A screech of tires. The passenger side of the car, where I sat, crumpled inwards like a tin can. The impact tore through me. The pain was immediate, blinding. My unborn baby, a secret joy I had planned to tell him about that morning, was gone. My body was shattered, my future as a mother, irrevocably damaged.
Javen had emerged mostly unharmed, just a few scrapes. He knelt by my hospital bed, his eyes wide with fear, tears streaming down his face. "Holly, I'm so sorry. I can't believe this happened. We'll get through this. We don't need kids. We just need each other." His words, then, had felt like a lifeline. Now, they were just another layer of his elaborate lie.
"Holly, stop," Javen choked out, his voice hoarse, his eyes wild. He gripped my hand, his fingers digging into my flesh. "Please, don't show any more. Not this."
Keely, her face pale, slowly reached for her phone, as if to turn it off. But Bridgett was faster. She snatched it from Keely' s hand before she could react.
"Oh, no you don' t," Bridgett snarled, her eyes blazing. She swiped furiously on Keely' s phone. The screen flickered, showing another date: April 15th, three years ago. The exact same day as my accident.
The first image was a photo of Keely, dressed in provocative lingerie, posing seductively. Then, a video started playing. The camera was shaky, clearly held by someone running. The ground was messy, a blur of dirt and gravel. Shouting. Heavy breathing. Then, Keely's voice, choked with sobs.
"Why are you still coming to me, Javen? Why? You just got engaged!"
Javen's voice, raspy and strained, came through the speakers. "Keely, baby, calm down. My parents are making me. I need to protect you from them."
"But... but what about Holly? She's pregnant!" Keely cried, her voice rising.
Javen sighed, a sound of frustration. "She... she had an accident. She might not be able to have kids anymore." The words were chillingly casual, an afterthought. "It's a shame, I guess. But you... you can give me children, can't you, my love?"
Keely' s sobbing turned into a desperate plea. "Yes! Yes, Javen! I can give you babies! Our babies! We can even give one to Holly, as compensation! She can raise it for us!"
A collective gasp of horror ripped through the room. My heart stopped. My head pounded.
Javen' s voice, a soft murmur, filled the air again. "Keely, darling, I love you. I can't let you give away our child. We owe her, yes, but not that much. This is what Holly and I owe you."
The video ended. The room was utterly silent. Javen' s car. His reckless driving. My miscarriage. My infertility. It wasn' t an accident. It was because he swerved to avoid hitting Keely, who had deliberately run into the road. She had forced a confrontation. She had stood in his way, and he had chosen her. He had chosen her over me, over our unborn child. He had chosen to protect his "true love" from his family's disapproval by almost killing me. And then, he had used my own tragedy as leverage, as an excuse to continue his affair, blaming me for "their" suffering.
I slowly brought my empty wine glass to my lips, savoring the last drop. The clinking of the glass as I set it down echoed in the horrifying silence of the room. It sounded like the finality of a gavel. Thirty years. Thirty years of friendship, of love, of blind devotion, shattered into a million pieces.
I looked at Javen, my eyes devoid of any emotion.
"Javen," I said, my voice shockingly calm. "We're done. The engagement is off."
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