Chapter 3

Cleo Kline POV:

Holden' s words, laced with scorn and a chilling warning, hung in the air. He leaned closer, his eyes sharp with malice. "So, Cleo. Who is it? Your pathetic, imaginary prince? Or are you just trying to create a scene, as usual?" He waited, expecting me to crumble. To stammer. To retreat.

Dianne, ever the opportunist, stepped forward, her hand delicately touching my arm. Her eyes, wide and seemingly innocent, held a predatory gleam. "Oh, Cleo, darling," she cooed, her voice saccharine sweet. "You can't be serious. Hazen? He' s... such a rough man. So dangerous. He' s nothing like Holden, who is so gentle and kind." She squeezed my arm, her nails digging in slightly. "You know what they say about him, Cleo. The things he's done. He' s not someone you want to cross. Or to be with."

A wave of agreement rippled through the crowd. "She's right, poor girl." "Hazen is terrifying." "That man has no soul." Their words were like bricks, building a wall of fear around the name.

"My choices are my own, Dianne," I said, my voice cutting through her performance. My gaze remained fixed on Holden. "And they have nothing to do with what you or anyone else 'says.'"

Dianne' s sweet facade wavered for a second. Her lips thinned. Then, her eyes glazed over. She swayed dramatically, clutching the side of her head. "Oh, my head..." she whimpered, her voice suddenly weak. She stumbled backward, directly into a passing waiter.

The waiter, startled, dropped his tray. Glasses crashed to the floor, shattering everywhere. Dianne cried out, a high-pitched shriek, and collapsed onto the scattered glass, holding her ankle. "My ankle! Oh, it hurts! Cleo, why did you push me?" she wailed, tears instantly springing to her eyes.

Holden lunged forward, his face contorted with rage. He pushed the bewildered waiter aside and knelt beside Dianne, cradling her head. "Dianne! My poor darling! What happened?" He glared at me, his eyes blazing. "Cleo! What have you done? Are you completely mad? You pushed her!"

"She's just jealous, Holden!" Dianne sobbed, clutching his arm tighter. "She can't stand that you chose me! She always hated me, ever since we were little girls!" She looked up at him, her eyes wide with manufactured fear. "And now she's trying to hurt me!"

Behind Holden's broad back, Dianne's eyes met mine. For a split second, the innocent victim was gone. A flash of triumph, cold and calculating, gleamed in her eyes. She smirked, a tiny, almost imperceptible twist of her lips before she buried her face in Holden' s chest once more, resuming her act.

"I didn't push her," I stated, my voice calm, unwavering. My eyes never left Dianne's face. You think I didn' t see that, you snake?

Holden stood up, pulling Dianne carefully to her feet. He advanced on me, his hands reaching for my shoulders. "Don't lie, Cleo! I saw it! You're deranged! You've always been obsessed with me, always jealous of anyone I cared about." His fingers dug into my shoulders, his grip bruising. "This is just another one of your pathetic attempts to get attention. Remember when you used to follow me around, just begging for a glance? Pathetic."

Dianne, limping dramatically, leaned against Holden. "Oh, Cleo, I know it's hard," she sniffled, looking utterly heartbroken. "But you can't just lash out like this. It's not fair to Holden, or to me." Her words, meant to sound compassionate, were designed to inflame Holden further.

The whispers in the crowd grew louder, sharper. "She really did push her!" "I always knew Cleo was unstable." "Holden deserves better." The judgment was a tangible weight, pressing down on me.

Holden's grip tightened, his nails biting into my skin. He shook me slightly. "I've tolerated your infatuation for years, Cleo. I've even humored you. But this? This is too far. You will never touch Dianne again. Do you understand me? Never." His voice was a guttural snarl, full of possessive fury.

He was losing control. His perfect facade was cracking, revealing the ugly truth beneath. And that, I realized, was exactly what I wanted.