Chapter 4

The next afternoon, the main conference hall was packed.

I walked up to the podium, holding the clicker.

The massive projector screen lit up. I pressed the button to advance the slide.

Everything went smoothly at first. But then, a high-definition, giant close-up of a cockroach filled the entire screen.

The audience gasped. I instinctively took a sharp step back, my heart hammering against my ribs.

My phone buzzed in my pocket.

It was a Snapchat from Charlotte.

"Added a little appetizer to help you train your nerves. Surprise!~"

My fingertips went completely numb. My hand was shaking so violently I could barely hold the clicker.

"Apologies. A slight technical glitch."

I forced my trembling fingers to double-click the button.

The disgusting image disappeared, replaced by our quarterly data charts.

For the rest of the presentation, my voice was steady, clear, and articulate. I didn't miss a single data point.

But by the time I walked off the stage, my back was soaked in cold sweat.

The room erupted into applause. Even the Regional VP nodded at me in approval.

Brandon stood up.

"We all know how capable Chloe is," he announced to the room.

"That slide was just a harmless little joke. We’ll handle the technical side internally."

"To cover what Chloe might have missed, Charlotte will now take over for the Q&A."

I watched him. I watched Charlotte walk up to the stage with her USB drive, looking like a victorious queen, taking credit for my hard work.

He had still managed to put her on stage.

At the after-party that night, the atmosphere was lively.

Charlotte was sipping her cocktail, laughing loudly.

"You guys have no idea how bad Chloe’s OCD actually is," she announced to the table.

"Back in college, our roommate accidentally touched her water bottle."

"Chloe literally threw the whole flask in the trash and cried under her blanket all night."

The table burst into laughter. "Seriously? That is so extra!"

Charlotte nudged Brandon with her elbow.

"Brandon, you were there. Tell them, isn't it true?"

Brandon held his glass, his fingers tracing the rim. He shot a quick glance at me but said nothing.

I set my glass down and looked straight at her. "Charlotte, I want an apology for the cockroach slide this afternoon."

The laughter at the table died instantly.

Charlotte’s smirk froze. Her eyes instantly welled up with tears.

"Chloe, it was just a joke..."

"I was literally trying to help you overcome your fear. You don't appreciate it, and now you're humiliating me in front of everyone?"

"That is so hurtful."

Brandon set his drink down, his brow furrowing.

"She didn't mean any harm, Chloe. Besides, your presentation went great, didn't it?"

"Charlotte was just trying to help. Don't make things ugly."

I looked at Brandon, and the last embers of my love for him turned to ice.

Seeing Brandon defend her, Charlotte grew bolder. She pointed toward the dirty, ash-stained tray in the middle of the table.

"If you really think I'm trying to hurt you, why don't you prove you aren't just being dramatic?"

"Go wash this ashtray."

"You wash it, and I’ll apologize."

My stomach turned. I stepped back. "I'm not doing that. Move it away."

"Oh, come on! What are you scared of? Touching it won't kill you!"

Charlotte suddenly grabbed the dirty ashtray and shoved it right into my face.

I dodged backward so fast my leg slammed violently against the sharp corner of a chair.

A blinding pain shot up my leg. I lost my balance and crashed onto the floor. My knee scraped against the hardwood, blood instantly pooling through my torn tights.

With a loud clatter, the dirty ashes and wet cigarette butts from the tray spilled all over my clothes.

"Oh my god!"

Charlotte shrieked, backing away and waving her hands frantically.

"I... I didn't mean to! Why did you react so dramatically?!"

Brandon’s face went pale. He took a step toward me but abruptly stopped.

I remembered. He always said we had to "keep things professional" at work events.

Instead of helping me up, he pulled a pack of tissues from his pocket and handed them to Charlotte.

"Hey, don't cry. It was an accident."

I didn't look at either of them. I dragged myself up using the wall for support and walked out to call an Uber.

On the ride home, my phone buzzed continuously with texts from Brandon.

"I know you felt wronged tonight. Charlotte went too far, but she knows she messed up. She’s crying her eyes out wanting to apologize to you."

Followed by a second text: "But Chloe, think about it. If she hadn't been pushing you all these years, would we even be this close?"

"We are getting married in five days. She’s doing this because she cares about our future."

I stared at the screen and didn't reply.

When I got home, my mother was sitting on the couch scrolling through her phone. On her screen was a Snapchat photo of Charlotte smiling through her tears, surrounded by coworkers comforting her.

I limped into the living room.

Hearing my footsteps, she looked up. The smile on her face vanished.

"Look at Charlotte. She’s so mature, she knows how to handle herself in public. She makes everyone look good!"

She threw her phone onto the coffee table.

"And look at you. You can't even finish a simple dinner without throwing a tantrum. You embarrass me!"

I stood in the center of the room, looking at her.

"Mom, my knee is bleeding."

"Bleeding?"

My mother let out a cold sneer.

"Your father divorced me because he couldn't stand your dramatic, high-maintenance OCD! Understood?"

"What, are you trying to drive Brandon away now too?"

She pointed a finger at me, her voice shrill.

"You think you're hot stuff? You're lucky Brandon even wants you!"

"If Charlotte wasn't constantly smoothing things over for you, he would have dumped your crazy ass years ago!"

"Honestly, Brandon and Charlotte make a much better couple than you two ever will!"

I had heard these words so many times I was entirely numb.

Without a word, I walked into the bathroom and locked the door.

I slid down onto the cold tile floor. I grabbed the showerhead and let the cold water blast over the bloody scrape on my knee.

The stinging pain kept me grounded.

Under the cover of the rushing water, I dialed my bridesmaid’s number.