Chapter3

I held my breath and let my body go limp, like I'd passed out.

Just like last time, Brooke and Julian stumbled into the guest room next door.

They didn't shut the door all the way. Pretty soon, there were sounds.

I opened my eyes, gathered up my skirt, and went downstairs.

Richard and Margaret were out on the terrace having drinks with some old friends.

Last time, I'd run straight to them and told everyone Brooke had drugged me and climbed into Julian's bed. Not one person believed me.

This time, I just walked over looking worried.

"Richard, Margaret, I think Julian had too much to drink. I heard something upstairs just now... I'm a little worried."

Margaret set down her glass immediately. A few curious relatives followed us up.

By the time we reached the guest room, there was no hiding the sounds coming from inside.

Margaret went pale. Richard reached out to stop me.

I'd already opened the door.

"Julian? Are you okay?"

The two people in the bed jerked apart and scrambled for the sheets.

Over everyone's shoulders, Brooke looked straight at me, and the corner of her mouth slowly curled up.

The hallway erupted.

"Isn't that the makeup artist from this morning?"

"Oh my God. So Hannah was telling the truth?"

Richard's face went red.

"Julian, what the hell are you doing?"

Margaret marched to the bed and grabbed Brooke by the arm.

"It was you, wasn't it? You drugged him! You shameless little..."

She turned to Julian.

"Sweetheart, she drugged you, didn't she? I'm calling the police right now."

The second Brooke heard the word police, the smugness vanished from her face. Her eyes welled up, and she curled into Julian's chest.

"Enough!"

Julian pulled her behind him.

Then he looked past everyone, right at me.

His eyes were cold. No panic. Not a trace of guilt.

"Hannah. We need to talk. Alone."

Richard and Margaret cleared everyone out. The door closed, and it was just the three of us.

I didn't know what there was left to talk about.

I just couldn't understand it.

This time, Brooke hadn't gone to prison. She hadn't died. So how could he stand there like he'd done nothing wrong?

I slid off my wedding ring and dropped it in the trash can by the bed.

"You promised. If you lied to me, we'd get a divorce."

"I'll have my lawyer draw up the papers tomorrow."

"Hannah."

He stopped me.

"I'm not divorcing you."

I turned around. It was the first time I'd ever looked at him like that.

"Then I'll file."

"Go ahead and try."

Only the bedside lamp was on. I couldn't make out his face. I could only hear his voice, so calm it was frightening.

"Walk out that door, and first thing tomorrow, I cut off your mother's private care."

"She'll be transferred to a state facility, where she'll be a hundred patients deep, waiting for a doctor who's never going to come."

"Julian..."

My teeth were chattering. I was shaking all over.

I must have looked pathetic. Because I saw Brooke smile.

"Why?"

"If you want her, divorce me and be with her. I won't stop you. Why do you have to drag me down with you?"

The tears came.

"I already let you go. I never did a single thing to hurt you. Why won't you just let me go?"

Julian looked at me, his voice flat.

"You never did anything to me. But you did plenty to Brooke."

I froze.

"What are you talking about..."

"Still pretending?" He gave a cold laugh. "Every guy Brooke ever dated, you stole from her. Didn't you?"

"You used that loyalty-testing crap as cover. You went after them one by one and slept with them. You pushed her into a depression so bad she almost killed herself."

"Now you know what it feels like to have your man taken."

"And your mother. You really want me to say how she had that stroke? She crashed Brooke's wedding to steal a man for you, and she got screamed at until she dropped. Whatever shape she's in now, she brought it on herself."

My head filled with white noise.

By the time I realized what I was doing, I'd already slapped him across the face.

I raised my hand and turned toward Brooke.

Julian shoved me away.

"That's enough! You're still going after her?"

I wiped my tears and said it slowly, one word at a time.

"I didn't. I never did any of it. Julian, Brooke stole my boyfriend. She walked out of my wedding with Tyler. She's the reason my mom had a stroke."

"There were hundreds of people there. I still have all the messages on my phone. Look for yourself..."

Smack.

His palm hit my face and cut me off.

"You're still lying."

"Hannah, I never thought you were this kind of person."

"Fine. You won't admit it? Then let's see how long you can hold out."

He grabbed my arm and hauled me toward the stairs.

There was a hidden pocket sewn into the skirt of my dress. It was new for Vera Wang this season. At my fitting, I'd been ridiculously happy about it, because finally, a wedding dress with pockets.

My phone was in it.

As he dragged me down the stairs, I slipped my hand into the pocket and found the record button by feel.

"Julian, let go of me!"

He ignored me. At the far end of the basement was a climate-controlled wine cellar. He pushed me inside and shut the door.

The keypad lock beeped.

"Julian! Open the door!"

Through the door, I heard him tap the thermostat panel a few times.

Cold air started pouring out of the vent above my head.

I pounded on the door. It was too thick. My palms went numb, and all that came back was his calm voice.

"When you've thought it over, when you're ready to admit what you did and apologize to Brooke, I'll let you out."

"Until then, get comfortable."

I screamed until my voice gave out. Nobody came.

The temperature kept dropping.

I curled up between two racks of wine, hugging my knees, my teeth chattering nonstop. First my fingers went numb. Then my toes.

The screen of the phone in my skirt was still lit.

It was still recording.