- 3.
1-8
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I knew where to find him. It was late, but the club was still throbbing. I spotted their booth. They were playing a drinking game, a tower of shot glasses rising precariously. Savannah stood alone, probably having just lost a round.
Julian sneered, “Savannah, you came back because you need money, right? One shot,
ten grand.”
Savannah bit her lip. She’d barely swallowed
half the shot when she started coughing,
tears stinging her eyes.
Julian’s expression darkened. He snatched
the glass. “Or,” he taunted, “take off a piece
of clothing, a hundred grand.‘
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The group gasped.
Someone spoke up. “Dude, you’ve got a
fiancée. Don’t push it.‘
They hadn’t noticed me. Only Savannah, who
suddenly looked up, directly at me. Her eyes
were defiant, her message clear: Even with a
ring on your finger, he loves me.
I finally reached the booth. The atmosphere
had shifted after that last comment. Everyone
saw me now, scrambling to their feet,
nervously calling out, “Mrs. T–to–be.”
I shook my head, my gaze fixed on Julian, who hadn’t turned around. I knew him. His neck and back were rigid with tension.
His closest friend leaned in, whispering, “Mrs.
T–to–be, it’s a misunderstanding. I’ve been
watching him, except when I went to the
restroom. He was asleep until a minute ago,
and that was the first thing he said.”
He met my eyes, his voice trailing off. He
probably realized how deeply I loved Julian.
I listened intently. “It’s okay.”
He relaxed, and I saw Julian’s back loosen a
fraction.
Then I slipped the engagement ring off my
left hand and placed it on the table in front of
Savannah. My voice was soft, steady. “Ten
grand, a hundred grand…too slow. This ring
is yours.”
く
The atmosphere flipped again.
The lighting was dim. I barely registered their
faces as I carefully picked my way out, almost
blindly. Then I heard Julian abruptly stand. He
grabbed the ring, his fist clenching around it.
He kicked the table, sending Savannah’s shot
glass and the nearby champagne tower
crashing to the floor.
The sudden outburst startled Savannah and
the others. They screamed.
I quietly waited for him to finish.
Julian was furious. Furious that I’d taken off
the ring. He grabbed my left wrist from
behind, trying to force the ring back on. His
voice was low, almost inaudible, choked with
emotion.
He whispered, “I’m sorry.”
I turned, gently but firmly pulling my hand
free. “Julian,” I said softly, “let’s call off the
engagement.”
Julian stared at my bare finger, his jaw clenched tight. His voice, low and dangerous, cut through the chaos. “Who called her
Chelsea?”
It was a quiet question, but the air crackled with unspoken threat. These were
Manhattan’s elite, but Julian was in a league of his own. They all knew his temper, knew he was on the edge of exploding.
They shook their heads fronti
They shook their heads frantically. “Julian, we
wouldn’t dare,” they choked out.
Savannah looked guilty and scared, taking a
step back. Her heel crunched on broken
glass. Julian whipped around, his eyes locking on her pale face. “Savannah,” he hissed, “you
think you can play me?”
The next second, he had her pinned against the wall, his fingers tightening around her throat. His eyes were full of rage.
Everyone was terrified, holding their breath.
From the moment the champagne tower shattered, the entire club had been watching, phones recording. The manager rushed over, sweating, flanked by security.
Г
Savannah struggled violently. For a moment, I
thought Julian might actually kill her. People
crowded around, but no one dared intervene.
Finally, I spoke. “Julian. Enough.”
He instantly released her, dropping his head
and scrubbing his hands with a napkin. He
wore a matching ring on his middle finger,
engraved with my initials on the inside.
M
I glanced at my watch. The hour, minute, and
second hands all aligned at zero.
I walked over and gently hugged him. “Julian,
happy birthday.”
As I pulled away, something cold landed on
my neck. A tear.
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- 4.
