Chapter 6 - A Toast to the Blind
The invitation was sent on Friday.
I organized a intimate dinner party at our house for Saturday night. The excuse was simple: a small celebration for Claire and Owen’s upcoming wedding, and a "thank you" to Claire for agreeing to be the godmother of our daughter.
Damon had been hesitant when I suggested it, but I played the doting, enthusiastic wife so perfectly that he couldn't find a reason to refuse without looking suspicious.
"It’ll be fun, honey," I had told him, adjusting his tie before he left for work. "Just the four of us. Good food, good wine—well, mocktails for me—and some quality time before the baby arrives."
"If it makes you happy, sweetheart," he had said, kissing my forehead.
Saturday night arrived. The dining room table was set with our finest china and crystal. I had spent the afternoon preparing a beef wellington, the rich aroma of pastry and red wine filling the air.
At 6:30 PM, Claire and Owen arrived.
Claire wore a stunning red dress, her wrist adorned with the platinum and sapphire bracelet Damon had bought her. She didn't even try to hide it. She probably assumed I would never recognize it, or perhaps she simply couldn't resist showing it off.
Owen looked pale. There were dark circles under his eyes, and his posture was rigid. He barely looked at Claire as they walked in.
"Nora!" Claire beamed, hugging me tightly. "Everything smells amazing! You shouldn't have gone to all this trouble in your condition."
"It's no trouble at all," I said, smiling warmly as I patted her cheek. "Only the best for my daughter's godmother."
Damon emerged from the kitchen, holding a bottle of expensive red wine. "Owen, buddy! Good to see you."
He reached out to shake Owen's hand, but Owen hesitated for a fraction of a second before extending his hand. The tension in the room was a living, breathing thing, but Damon was too arrogant to notice.
We sat down at the table. I poured the wine for the three of them, and sparkling cider for myself.
"Before we eat," I said, raising my glass. "I want to propose a toast."
Damon, Claire, and Owen raised their glasses.
"To friendship," I said, looking directly at Claire. "To twelve years of sisterhood, of shared secrets, and unconditional trust. And to Damon—the most supportive husband a woman could ask for, who always ensures I have 'quiet time' when I need it most."
Claire’s glass wobbled slightly. She took a quick sip.
"And finally," I continued, turning my gaze to Owen. "To new beginnings. May we all get exactly what we deserve."
"Hear, hear," Owen said, his voice flat. He took a heavy gulp of his wine.
Throughout the dinner, I was the perfect hostess. I laughed at Damon’s jokes, complimented Claire’s dress, and asked Owen about his work. But beneath the surface, the trap was springing.
"That's a beautiful bracelet, Claire," I said during the main course, pointing to her wrist. "I don't think I've seen it before. Is it an engagement gift from Owen?"
The table went dead silent.
Claire’s hand froze over her plate. Damon stopped chewing.
Owen slowly turned his head to look at Claire's wrist. "No," Owen said, his voice dangerously quiet. "I didn't buy her that."
Claire laughed nervously, her fingers instinctively covering the blue sapphires. "Oh, this? No, it’s just costume jewelry. I bought it at a boutique downtown last week. It was on sale."
"Really?" I asked, tilting my head. "It looks incredibly real. The sapphires are so vibrant. In fact, it looks exactly like a piece I saw in the window of the jewelry store on 5th Avenue last Tuesday. Didn't you say you had a meeting near there that day, Damon?"
Damon cleared his throat, his face flushing slightly. "I... I don't recall, Nora. I have a lot of clients in that area."
"Right, of course," I said, smiling brightly. "Anyway, it’s gorgeous, Claire. Blue is definitely your color. It matches the little blue charm on your champagne camisole."
Claire choked on her wine, coughing violently into her napkin. Damon’s fork clattered against his plate.
"Are you okay, Claire?" I asked, my voice filled with mock concern.
"Yes... yes, just went down the wrong pipe," she wheezed, her face turning crimson.
Owen stared at Claire, his eyes narrowing. "What champagne camisole?"
"Oh, it's just a silly piece of lingerie Claire showed me a while ago," I said smoothly, waving my hand as if dismissing a trivial detail. "She said she was saving it for your honeymoon. Right, Claire?"
May you like
Claire couldn't speak. She just nodded, her eyes wide with terror as she looked at me, then at Damon.
They were beginning to realize that the ice beneath them was cracking. But they still didn't know how deep the water was.
