Holy shit.
“Ahh! Help! You psycho… you bitch—” With a thud, my slightly unhinged wife’s fist connects with Sarah’s nose, and blood splatters. A crowd forms around them, and I lose sight of them for a second, but people step aside quickly once they realize who’s trying to get through. My sister is yelling at one of Sarah’s friends and looks like she’s about to join the fight too. But I’ll leave her to Cedric—I need to get to Amelia. I need to get this madwoman away from her.
With a murderous glare and boiling rage in my gut, I reach them just as my wife climbs off Sarah. And holy shit, that look—I never want her to look at me like that. Pure, unfiltered hatred.
“Touch me like that again and I’ll kill you. You’re insane,” she hisses and turns to me, adjusting her dress and the crooked tiara. But apparently, Sarah isn’t done yet. She screams in a shrill voice and jumps at Amelia from behind.
Fuck.
Lizzy screams as I try to catch Amelia, but I’m too slow, everything happens so fast, and I can only watch as they crash to the floor again. Security rushes in, and this time, I let them.
But they’re not fast enough. Sarah lands a solid hit before I rip her off my wife.
Amelia groans and clutches her eye, lying there dazed.
“Shit, they’re like two raging bulls. What the hell was that?” Ced asks me, now at my side, looking a little desperate, and I glance at him sideways.
“My Goldilocks showed her claws and fought back. That’s all.”
But Sarah is out of her mind and tries to lunge at my wife again.Over my dead body.
“Ah-ah. I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” I warn her, grabbing her arm. I nod to Ced, who takes hold of Sarah while I reach for my little wife, who has just been helped up by security and now stands before me, panting and gasping.
She looks like something out of a horror movie, dress torn and bloodied, one eye already bruising, makeup smeared. Still, her eyes shoot daggers toward Sarah, who’s being handed over to security by Cedric, and they’re struggling to keep her under control.
“Nic, have this lunatic arrested. She’s insane. She tried to kill me. Just like she did with your brother.”
What the fuck?
Amelia lunges forward and I barely catch her around the waist, pulling her back and wrapping my arm around her. I lift her up because she’s kicking and screaming.
“Easy, Goldilocks, I think you’ve done enough,” I murmur in her ear, which only makes her more furious, but I’ve got her safely in my grip.
“Let me go. Let me the fuck go.” She’s trembling all over, and there’s no way in hell I’m letting her go.
“Not a chance. You’ve fought enough, Rambo,” I tell her and throw her over my shoulder. As I walk away, I lock eyes with Sarah, still struggling against the guards.
“Come near her again, touch her one more time, andIwill kill you. Got it?” My voice echoes loud enough through the hall that Sarah clearly hears the threat. And so does everyone else still present. Her eyes widen in shock, and tears well up, but I don’t give a damn. I don’t spare her another glance, just look briefly at Ced.
“Make sure everyone keeps their mouths shut.” He nods, and I carry my wife out of there.
“Let’s toast again, sister-in-law.” Lizzy nudges me with her elbow, and I sway slightly as I turn to her.
“Again? Alright then,” I shrug, and she orders another round of tequila.
My head feels a little foggy, but I’m in a good mood, and Lizzy and I are having fun now that all the stuffy guests, including my brother, have left.
It’s already one o’clock in the morning, and only close friends and acquaintances of Lizzy and Nicolas remain. I know most of them, but I’ve noticed some seem to believe the recent press releases about me.
Luckily, everyone had to hand over their phones, cameras, anything that can record, film, or take pictures. So I can actually celebrate undisturbed and without fear of my brother, the press, or any lies. And that’s exactly what I’m doing.
Nicolas keeps a close eye on me, hardly taking his eyes off me, which makes the butterflies in my stomach flutter wildly. I like that he’s watching me. It feels good. Safe.
The bartender sets the shots down in front of us, and we clink glasses, lick the salt, and down it in one go. The lemon afterward is disgusting, but whatever.
“Huuuhh, that hits hard. Oh, I love this song, let’s go dance,” my best friend chirps and pulls me along.
My tiara, which she had taken off the veil sometime earlier, is now hanging crooked on my head, and my elegant bun is slowly but surely falling apart. But I’ve never cared less.
