Chapter 6 - The Fall
“Sloan, no!”
Callum’s voice roared across the lawn from the center of the patio, sharp as a gunshot.
It was too late.
Sloan threw her full weight behind the handles. My lightweight titanium chair shot forward with terrifying momentum, unbalancing me instantly.
One front caster slammed directly into the raised stone edge of the patio paving.
The world tilted on a sickening axis.
I threw my hands out instinctively to catch myself, but there was nothing beneath me—only empty air. My body flew out of the chair, tumbling headfirst toward the center of the dance floor.
Directly into the $5,000 wedding cake.
For one agonizing, suspended second, time seemed to freeze. I saw the towering five-tier masterpiece hanging above me like an avalanche of white frosting and sugar peonies.
Then gravity reclaimed us both.
I slammed hard into the stone patio, my shoulder taking the brunt of the impact, a sickening crack echoing through my bones. Pain exploded white-hot through my lower back and collarbone. The breath was punched completely out of my lungs in a violent gasp.
Behind me, the entire cake table collapsed with a deafening crash.
Tiers of sponge cake, thick buttercream frosting, broken glass plates, and shattered sugar flowers rained down over my body, burying me in a sticky, white avalanche. My legs twisted unnaturally beneath the rubble, completely dead, useless limbs trapped under the debris.
Silence descended on the estate so absolute you could hear the crickets in the oak trees.
Then, screams erupted.
“Oh my god!”
“Someone call 911!”
Through the roaring in my ears and the blinding pain tearing through my shoulder, I heard one voice rise above the chaos.
Sloan’s voice.
She was standing over the wreckage, clutching her ivory skirt as sticky white frosting stained the hem of her designer gown.
“My cake!” she shrieked, tears of pure rage streaming down her face. “My five-thousand-dollar cake! She ruined it! She threw herself into my cake on purpose!”
I tried to push myself up using my good arm, but a wave of nausea and agonizing pain forced me back down against the sticky stone. I lay there in the ruins of sugar and frosting, gasping for air, humiliated beyond human endurance.
Then, heavy footsteps pounded across the stone.
“Don't move her!”
A man dropped to his knees beside me in the wreckage, completely ignoring the thick buttercream smearing across the knees of his expensive midnight-blue tuxedo trousers.
Callum.
He didn’t look at the cake. He didn’t look at the guests. His hands—strong, steady, and practiced—immediately cupped my neck to stabilize my spine, while his other hand anchored my shoulder.
“Mave. Look at me,” he commanded, his voice dead calm, carrying an authority that brooked no argument.
I forced my tear-filled eyes up to meet his.
“Stay still. Keep breathing. I’ve got you,” he murmured.
Something in the cadence of his voice—the exact tone, the absolute, unwavering steadiness—scraped away the haze of pain. A memory flashed in my mind. Dust billowing through a shattered truck window. Gunfire rattling the desert air. A medic’s voice cutting through the panic, telling a bleeding soldier that they were going to make it home.
Before I could connect the dots, Sloan pushed her way past the frozen wedding guests, her face purple with fury.
“Callum, get away from her! She’s faking! She did this on purpose for attention!”
Callum went completely, terrifyingly still.
He didn't turn around immediately. He kept his hands gentle and firm on my neck, ensuring my spine remained aligned.
Then, a voice spoke from the edge of the patio—crisp, professional, and holding up a digital camera with a blinking red recording light.
“I got the whole thing,” the wedding photographer said clearly, stepping forward into the light. “Every single second of it. I caught her pushing the chair.”
Sloan stopped dead in her tracks. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out.
The entire wedding party stood frozen like statues in a museum of wreckage.
Callum slowly released his grip on my neck, transferring his support to my uninjured arm, and stood up to his full height.
May you like
He turned around and placed himself squarely between my sister and me.
He looked Sloan directly in the eyes. And when he spoke, his voice was so cold, so devoid of any human warmth, that it sent a shiver through every single person standing on that lawn.
