Chapter 4 - The UnravelingDamen slammed his glass down onto the bar counter with a loud clatter that made nearby guests jump. He pushed past Nikki, his face contorted in an ugly mixture of panic and murderous rage, marching straight up to us.
"Carissa!" Damen hissed, grabbing my bare arm with a grip that was entirely too tight. "What the hell are you playing at? What are you doing here with him?"
Jackson didn't even flinch. With a single, fluid motion, he reached out, caught Damen’s wrist with iron strength, and twisted it just enough to force Damen to let go of my arm.
"Keep your hands to yourself, Damen," Jackson said, his voice terrifyingly calm, carrying a quiet menace that made Damen stumble back a step. "Unless you want me to discuss your financial arrangements in front of your old dean."
Nikki hurried over, her eyes wide with panic, her fake tears practically swimming on the surface. "Carissa, please! You're making a scene! Why would you bring him here? You’re ruining everything!"
"Ruining your little cosplay, Nikki?" I asked, stepping forward so the harsh fluorescent light caught every trace of panic on her meticulously made-up face. "I thought you said it wasn't that deep. Why are you sweating so much? Makeup running a bit?"
A small crowd had formed around us now, drawn by the drama like moths to a flame. Alumni who had spent the evening listening to Damen brag about his blissful marriage and high-flying career were suddenly treated to a front-row seat to his absolute collapse.
"She's crazy!" Damen shouted, his voice cracking slightly as he pointed a trembling finger at me, trying desperately to salvage his narrative. "Look at her! She’s unstable! She couldn't handle that I brought a colleague to a networking event, so she dragged my estranged brother here just to humiliate me!"
"A colleague?" Jackson repeated, raising an eyebrow as he pulled a sleek black leather portfolio from under his arm. "That’s a funny word for your sister-in-law, Damen. Especially considering you’ve been telling your friends here that Nikki is your actual wife."
Murmurs rippled through the surrounding crowd.
“Did he say his sister-in-law?”
“Wait, I thought the girl with him was his wife…”
“Didn't he introduce her as his wife to the alumni president ten minutes ago?”
Damen’s face turned the color of a bruised plum. "Shut up! Both of you, just shut up!" He turned to the crowd, waving his hands frantically. "She’s lying! She’s a vindictive bitch who can't stand seeing me succeed!"
"Succeed?" Jackson stepped forward, opening the leather portfolio and pulling out a set of crisp, professionally printed documents. "Damen, let’s talk about your success. Shall we discuss the thirty thousand dollars in high-interest consumer debt you accrued under false pretenses? Or perhaps the forged signature on the mortgage deed for the apartment Carissa bought with her own law firm salary?"
The silence in the ballroom was absolute. You could hear the ice melting in the abandoned cocktail glasses.
Damen froze, staring at the papers in Jackson’s hand as if they were venomous snakes. "You... you went through my files?"
"I went through our records, Damen," I said, stepping into the light, my voice cutting through the noise like a scalpel. "Every single cent you spent, every lie you told your friends, every late-night rehearsal in my living room while you pretended my sister was your wife. I documented all of it."
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Nikki let out a strangled gasp, burying her face in her hands as she realized the game was completely, irrevocably over. Her social standing among mutual acquaintances, her comfortable apartment funded by my hard work, her entire parasitic lifestyle—it was evaporating in real-time.
"And the best part?" I smiled, locking eyes with my trembling husband. "I filed for divorce this morning. Papers will be served to your 'colleague's' apartment by 9:00 AM tomorrow."
