Chapter 9 - The Lethal Question
Caleb didn't flinch, nor did he allow her trembling hand to rest on his tuxedo. With a terrifyingly smooth, dismissive motion, he caught her wrist mid-air. He didn't squeeze hard enough to bruise, but the absolute unyielding iron grip of his fingers sent a jolt of pure terror straight down Celeste's spine.
He slowly lowered her hand back down to her side, his dark, watchful eyes never leaving hers for a single fraction of a second.
"Is that true, Celeste?" Caleb asked.
He didn't yell. He didn't raise his voice even a decibel. But the cold, lethal, and devastatingly quiet tone of his voice echoed off the marble walls louder than any of her hysterical screams. It was the voice of a man who had already uncovered the lie, a man who was simply waiting to see how deep the liar would dig their own grave.
Celeste swallowed hard, her throat completely dry. The air in her lungs felt like shattered glass.
"C-Caleb, sweetheart," she stammered, her eyes darting frantically around the room, desperate for an escape that didn't exist. "I... I was just standing here. The child bumped into the table. You know how clumsy these people are. She ruined our cake. Our beautiful wedding cake. Why would I ever destroy my own wedding cake?"
Her voice trailed off into a pathetic, high-pitched whine. She forced tears into her eyes, trying to look fragile, trying to look like the deeply wounded, aristocratic bride whose perfect night had been ruined by the careless lower class.
Caleb stared at her. The silence stretched for three agonizing seconds. Then, very slowly, Caleb tilted his head.
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"Why indeed," Caleb murmured, his voice dangerously soft. He slowly released her wrist and turned his head, looking back over his shoulder directly at the tiny girl sitting on the floor.
👉 Celeste's final lie was hanging by a thread, and the little girl in the pink dress was about to cut it completely.
