You Can't Afford My Broken Heart

Katharine Kent POV: The gala moved into the speeches. The main chandeliers dimmed, and a bright spotlight hit the center stage. I stood in the deep shadows near the heavy velvet curtains at the edge of the room. I kept my distance from the crowd. In the center of the dance floor, directly under the massive, multi-tiered crystal chandelier, Andrew stood with Alida. They were the focal point of the room, bathing in the ambient light. High above them, near the vaulted ceiling, a sharp, metallic groan echoed. It was a sickening sound. The grinding of steel giving way. A few tiny shards of glass rained down first. They hit the champagne tower with sharp, crystalline pings. The crowd gasped. Heads tilted upward. The heavy steel cable holding the thousand-pound chandelier snapped. The massive structure plummeted. It was falling directly toward Alida. Instinct took over. Andrew's eyes went wide. In a split second, he lunged forward, his arms extending with explosive force to shove the person nearest to him out of the danger zone, creating a clear path to grab Alida. He didn't look at who he was pushing. His heavy hands slammed into my shoulders. Ethan had spotted me hiding in the shadows just moments before. He had walked over, gently taking my arm to guide me away from the drafty curtains and closer to the warmth of the room's center, insisting I at least have a proper view of the speeches. The shifting crowd had closed in behind us, trapping me in the inner circle. The force of Andrew's shove lifted me off my feet. I flew backward, my spine colliding violently with the edge of the marble dessert table. A fraction of a second later, the chandelier hit the floor exactly where I had been standing. The impact sounded like a bomb detonating. The floor shook. Thousands of razor-sharp crystal shards exploded outward like shrapnel. The flying glass ripped through the air. Several large, jagged pieces sliced deep into my calves and forearms. I hit the floor hard, landing directly on a bed of shattered glass. The breath was knocked out of me. A searing, blinding pain tore through my legs. Warm blood immediately soaked through the black velvet of my dress, pooling on the white marble. Screams erupted. The ballroom descended into absolute chaos. People trampled over each other to reach the exits. "Katharine!" Ethan's roar tore through the noise. He shoved people aside, sprinting toward the wreckage. Andrew was crouching near the edge of the dance floor. He had his arms wrapped tightly around Alida, shielding her head. They were completely unharmed. Hearing Ethan's scream, Andrew's head snapped up. He looked across the debris. His pupils dilated. He saw me lying in an expanding pool of dark blood, my skin ashen. Andrew's breath hitched. His brain short-circuited. His arms loosened around Alida as his body instinctively tried to rise, to move toward the blood. Alida felt his grip loosen. She immediately let out a weak, pathetic whimper and let her head loll back against his chest. She went completely limp, faking a dead faint. The dead weight of Alida's body snapped Andrew's attention back. He looked down at her pale face. He gritted his teeth. He scooped Alida up into his arms, holding her tight against his chest. He stood up and turned his back on the wreckage. With long, urgent strides, he carried Alida toward the exit doors. He didn't look back at me. Not even once. Ethan dropped to his knees in the glass. He ripped off his expensive tuxedo jacket and pressed it brutally hard against the deepest gash on my leg. "Hold on, Kat. Just hold on," Ethan begged, his hands slick with my blood. The wail of ambulance sirens pierced the New York night, growing louder as they approached the hotel. Paramedics burst through the doors with a gurney. They shouted orders, lifting my limp body onto the stretcher. My face was the color of chalk. As they rolled me rapidly toward the exit, I fought through the black edges of my vision. I forced my eyes to stay open. I looked toward the doors where Andrew had disappeared. The space was empty. The last ember of hope inside my chest sizzled and died. There was nothing left but cold ash. The ambulance doors slammed shut. The vehicle lurched forward, speeding through the Manhattan streets. Lying on the narrow cot, the siren screaming in my ears, I moved my uninjured left hand. I reached into the pocket of my ruined dress and pulled out my phone. My fingers were smeared with my own blood. I unlocked the screen, my vision swimming with dark spots. I tried to open my email to contact my lawyer, but my thumb smeared thick, dark blood across the glass. The phone slipped from my weak grip, clattering onto the metal floor of the ambulance. I couldn't do it now. My body was shutting down, the piercing wail of the siren fading into a dull, distant hum. I closed my eyes, letting the darkness pull me under, but my mind locked onto a single, unbreakable vow: the moment I opened my eyes again, I was leaving this city forever.