Chapter 4 Is She Scared

Harold's engagement, thanks to Carrie, became the subject of intense speculation among elite social circles.

The revelation that Christina, his bride-to-be, had recently been released from prison sent ripples of shock through their community, particularly affecting Harold's father, Greg Hewitt.

The news reached Harold during an intimate gathering with friends.

When his phone illuminated with his father's call, Greg's voice thundered through the speaker the moment Harold answered.

"Have you taken leave of your senses? That woman is not only a murderer but born out of wedlock! Squandering your life wasn't enough - now you've chosen to associate with someone of her caliber?"

A subtle smile played across Harold's features as he responded with measured composure, "We each carry our burdens. We're perfect for each other."

The sound of shattering glass echoed through the connection, marking Greg's escalating fury. Harold, maintaining his composure, terminated the call with quiet finality.

His companions exchanged meaningful glances, their expressions a mixture of concern and intrigue. One voice finally broke through the tension. "Harold, is it true about you and Christina?"

"Indeed." His simple acknowledgment ignited a cascade of reactions.

Protests erupted from all directions. "Seriously? She's committed murder!"

"This exceeds even your usual unpredictability."

"What possible appeal could such a woman hold?"

Harold's thoughts drifted to Christina's image - her refined features, her quiet strength - and his expression softened momentarily. "Her appeal? An elegant figure, graceful bearing, and striking beauty."

He reflected on how endearing she appeared in moments of vulnerability.

A weighted silence descended upon the room before curiosity overtook caution.

"Does she truly possess such remarkable beauty?"

"Your appreciation for attractive women is well-documented, Harold, but surely her history of murder gives you pause?"

Harold's response carried a note of derision. "Carrie remains very much alive. Your concern is misplaced."

At the side, Rylie Wall, who secretly harbored feelings for Harold, could barely contain the bitterness and resentment rising in her chest. She had known Harold much earlier than Christina did. How come that murderer easily stole Harold away?

Before she could voice her objections, another guest interjected with calculated interest. "If Christina's beauty matches your description, Harold, perhaps an introduction is in order? She'll soon be part of our circle, after all."

The suggestion captured everyone's attention.

After all, Christina was a woman who had attempted murder, with a striking face.

Who wouldn't be curious?

"Certainly." Harold's gaze swept the room with precision, his expression pleasant but carrying an unmistakable edge. "However, I expect the term 'murderer' to be permanently struck from your vocabulary regarding her."

Though known for his casual demeanor, Harold's capacity for severity was well-documented.

His words descended upon the gathering like a heavy curtain, transforming the earlier animation into profound silence.

The guests remained captivated by the mystery of Christina's allure - what compelling qualities had led Harold to disregard conventional wisdom?

Their speculation was interrupted when Christina, having just concluded negotiations with a Nimbus Enterprises representative, received Harold's call.

The junior executive from Nimbus, unaware of Christina's real identity, had eagerly discussed potential investments in the Marshall Group.

After drafting a preliminary agreement, the representative said enthusiastically, "See you at the business conference then, Ms. Marshall."

Christina acknowledged this with a measured nod before departing the restaurant.

After ending her call with Harold, she went to Nightlife's private room 301 as he instructed.

The venue's proximity allowed her to arrive within twenty minutes.

Upon her entrance, the room fell into a hush before erupting into hushed observations.

"Her beauty is undeniable, though there's an unmistakable edge to her presence."

"Striking, certainly, but let's not forget Carrie's current condition."

"Harold's appreciation is understandable - she commands attention."

Harold executed a precise shot at the pool table, the sharp crack of the ball effectively silencing the murmurs.

Setting aside his cue stick, he regarded Christina with subtle interest. "Care to demonstrate your pool skills?"

Christina's brief hesitation preceded her affirmative response.

The room's occupants watched with undisguised fascination as Harold's attention focused solely on her. His voice carried a gentle persistence. "Perhaps a demonstration?"

She narrowed her eyes slightly, trying to gauge his intent. He had called her here for this? A game of pool?

Christina wasn't naive.

After returning to the Marshall family, she had dabbled in many things, picking up skills as needed. Pool was among them - not her strongest suit, but she could hold her own.

Still...

After her third unsuccessful attempt, Harold's quiet amusement manifested in both his laugh and his actions. He positioned himself behind her, his hands guiding hers on the cue stick, creating an intimate tableau that drew every eye in the room.

"Mrs. Hewitt-to-be," he remarked with gentle mockery, "we'll need to improve your technique."

Christina felt warmth rise to her cheeks, regretting her acquiescence to his assistance. "I can manage independently," she responded quietly.

Harold withdrew with another soft laugh, while Rylie observed their interaction with mounting displeasure.

Her composure finally fractured. Sneering, she asked, "How dare you present yourself here so shamelessly? After what you did to Carrie, you're now openly pursuing Harold?"

Christina maintained her composure, focusing on her next shot with studied indifference to the outburst.

Harold similarly dismissed the interruption, his attention unwavering from Christina.

The silence that followed was deafening. The others exchanged uneasy glances but wisely chose to stay out of it.

Christina might have nearly sent Carrie to an early grave, but she was also Harold's fiancée now.

None of them were noble enough to challenge the Hewitt family over a grudge that wasn't theirs to settle.

Any complaints they had? They'd whisper them behind closed doors, where it was safer.

Harold had made his stance clear.

Rylie, however, refused to be ignored. Fury twisting her features, she stormed up to Christina and, in one sharp motion, knocked the cue stick from her hands.

Rylie's accusation hung in the air, her voice trembling with vindictive satisfaction. "Your lack of shame is appalling. Someone like you has no right to happiness. You attempted to take Carrie's life without a shred of remorse. It's repulsive-"

A sharp, defiant voice sliced through her tirade. "Get a grip, Rylie. What's your endgame here - driving her to suicide as penance? You're passing judgment without context. Your ignorance doesn't give you the right to persecute someone trying to rebuild their life. Why are you so invested in her suffering?"

Christina froze for a moment and turned toward the voice.

The woman who had spoken up for her was wearing heavy makeup that obscured her delicate features, and her strappy dress, though a bit mismatched, added a rebellious touch. Despite that, she somehow appeared endearing.

"Who is she?" Christina inquired softly, intrigued by this unexpected defender.

Harold's response carried a note of amusement. "That's Jenna - the Briggs family's resident chaos agent."

The revelation crystallized in Christina's mind - Jenna Briggs's identity as Carrie's long-standing adversary suddenly made perfect sense.

Catching Christina's contemplative look, Jenna gravitated closer, mischief dancing in her eyes. "Tell me, beautiful, do you have unfinished business with Carrie?"

Christina met her gaze steadily. "Indeed, I do."

Jenna's enthusiastic response followed a moment of startled appreciation for Christina's directness. "Anyone against Carrie is automatically my ally!"

Christina found herself warming to Jenna's genuine charm, a smile tugging at her lips.

Rylie watched this exchange with mounting horror. "Jenna, have you lost your mind? She's a-"

The word "murderer" was swallowed back as Harold's icy gaze landed on her. Harold's usually nonchalant face was now shadowed with cold intensity.

"My patience has limits, Rylie," he stated, each word precisely measured. "If my fiancée's presence disturbs you, remove yourself. This is your final warning about harassing her."

Rylie's protests dissolved into incoherence. "Harold, I only meant to-"

"Leave." His command brooked no argument.

Rylie's dramatic exit sparked a subtle shift in the room's atmosphere. The observers began recalibrating their assessment of Harold's commitment to Christina, their previous disdain morphing into cautious respect.

Christina retreated to a quiet corner, seeking solitude with her drink.

Jenna, however, attached herself to Christina's side with child-like persistence, her alcohol-loosened tongue spilling secrets.

One drink was sufficient to dissolve Jenna's inhibitions completely.

"Carrie's always been manipulative," she confided, her words slightly slurred. "She's perfected her victim act since childhood. Once, she orchestrated my fall into water and prevented anyone from helping me. That incident cost me the hearing in my right ear."

Bitterness crept into her voice. "She's eternally self-serving, destroying others without remorse. The real shock was Ellie choosing her side. But thankfully, Ellie broke up with Harold and married some other rich guy..."

Christina absorbed this information silently. Ellie Stanley - Harold's first love. The weight of this knowledge settled heavily in her chest.

Jenna, now thoroughly intoxicated, clung to Christina. "You might share some features with Ellie, but you're far more striking. More importantly, you possess wisdom she lacked..."

Harold's arrival interrupted Jenna's revelations. "What's the topic of discussion?"

Christina deflected smoothly. "Jenna's completely intoxicated. Should we give her a ride?"

"Someone will collect her," Harold replied, donning his coat. "I'll escort you home."

She hesitated briefly before rising to follow him.

As they stepped out of the private room and into the cool night air, Christina glanced at Harold, her voice even. "Why did you call me here?"

After all, this was Harold's social circle. Despite his status, most of his friends likely harbored more disdain than respect for her after knowing her history of murder.

Their values didn't align with hers, nor did she have any interest in earning their approval.

So why introduce her to them at all?

Harold said nothing as he opened the car door and slid into the driver's seat. Then, without warning, he reached out, pulling her onto his lap in one swift motion.

Their bodies pressed together, and Christina's face flushed.

The car door shut with a quiet click. Harold's hand tilted her chin upward, forcing her to meet his gaze. His eyes, deep and unreadable, reflected her outward calm - but also the unease she was trying to suppress.

"Christina, are you scared?"

Her breath hitched slightly.

His tone had shifted - gone was the teasing, the playfulness. Now, there was something almost... gentle. "It's not easy to hurt someone," he murmured, his fingers brushing against the tension in her back. "Especially for someone as kind as you." Christina's lips parted slightly, but no words came.

A soft sigh escaped him, and before she could react, his cool lips brushed against her eyelids in a fleeting, tender gesture.

"Darling," he whispered, his voice impossibly soft, "I think you need friends. You need people who accept you. And most importantly... you need to let go of those nightmares."

Her gaze lowered, and something in her chest twisted painfully.

Was she scared?

Yes. No matter how much hatred burned inside her, the thought of taking a life with her own hands terrified her.

In her dreams, the vivid bloodstains and Elaine's blank, despairing face haunted her every night.