Chapter 7 No.7

The sound of the shattering phone was like a gunshot in the silent room. A raw, guttural scream of pain and rage she had suppressed for four years tore from her throat.

Her other phone, the temporary one Callum had given her, rang. It was Brady, calling again, relentless.

In a blind fury, she snatched it up.

"Hello?" His voice was thick with alcohol.

"THIS IS KARISSA!" she shrieked, the name a weapon. "NOT HETTIE! ME! THE WOMAN YOU ARE DIVORCING! THE WOMAN WHOSE LIFE YOU HAVE DESTROYED!"

There was a stunned silence on the other end. Then, a mumbled, "Karissa... stay... don't hang up..."

The rage drained away as quickly as it had come, leaving behind a hollow, aching exhaustion. She sank to the floor, listening to his incoherent muttering until he finally passed out.

She didn't know how long she sat there, on the cold floor, surrounded by the wreckage of her phone and her life. The fever was raging now, and the world seemed to tilt and sway around her.

The sun was rising when a key turned in the lock. The door swung open.

It was Brady.

He looked haggard, his suit rumpled, his eyes bloodshot. He must have used the hotel records to find her room. He saw her on the floor, the shattered phone, her pale, sweat-sheened face.

He didn't ask if she was okay. He didn't show an ounce of concern.

His face contorted with fury.

"What the hell was that last night?" he snarled. "You screamed at me like a lunatic. What is wrong with you?"

He was the one who had made the drunken, mistaken call. He was the one who had called her by another woman's name. And he was blaming her.

"And what gives you the right to leave?" he continued, his voice rising. "To just disappear? You think you can just walk away after everything? I am the one who ends things, Karissa. Me. You don't get to walk away from me."

It wasn't about love or regret. It was about control. He couldn't stand that she had been the one to leave, to cut the final cord. He was stripping her of her last shred of dignity, her one act of defiance.

She tried to stand, but her legs gave way. She was dizzy, her vision blurring.

She stumbled towards the door, needing to get away from him, to breathe air that he hadn't contaminated.

She fumbled with the handle and pulled the door open, nearly falling into the hallway.

And there, standing right outside, was Hettie.

Her eyes widened in fake surprise, then narrowed into a look of pure, venomous triumph. She took in Karissa's disheveled state, her feverish flush, Brady standing behind her in the hotel room.

"Oh my god," Hettie gasped, clutching her chest. "Brady... what is this? I came to find you, I was so worried. And I find you... here? With her? After everything she's done?"

She looked at Karissa, her eyes filled with scorn.

"You are shameless," Hettie hissed. "Trying to seduce him on the eve of our engagement party. You're nothing but a pathetic, desperate homewrecker."

Karissa stared at her, speechless. The accusation was so vile, so twisted, it stole the air from her lungs.

Brady didn't defend her. He didn't correct the lie. He just stood there, his silence a damning confirmation.

The double blow-his cruelty, Hettie's vicious slander-was too much. The world went dark at the edges. Karissa's knees buckled, and she collapsed onto the hallway carpet, the last of her strength gone.