Chapter 4
"Justine, stop being difficult. I get it—you're bitter that Patrica's the one I love now. Look in the mirror; she never backs me into corners like you do!"
His volume cranked up. "You won't even visit Grandpa and Grandma? Do you want this marriage or not?"
I was at a loss for words—literally.
Guess before the big day, I needed to clock in one final time as the perfect Matthews family bride-to-be.
Calling off the wedding now would ruin everything.
"Fine, let's go."
By 8 p.m., I hopped into Elwood's car, and we pulled away from the villa.
The elders lived in a detached home out in the suburbs—at their age, they hated the hustle and bustle, so the seclusion suited them just fine.
The drive passed in total silence.
The moment we got out, the old couple lit up with joy. Grandma Sandra Matthews hurried over to clasp my hand, while Grandpa Jerrell beckoned from the doorway.
"Justine's arrived! It's nippy out there—hurry inside."
Other relatives were already gathered in the house.
They flocked around us as soon as we walked in.
Chatter filled the air: urging us to hurry up and wed, advising me to go easy on Elwood while he was still on the mend.
"Ah, what a freak accident. No one saw that coming."
Sandra leaned in with heartfelt advice. "Justine, be patient with him. Elwood took a nasty hit to the head. The doc mentioned today that he's improving steadily. Once you're hitched, the Matthews family will make sure you're well looked after."
Jerrell echoed her sentiments, more or less.
I offered a smile but stayed quiet.
Elwood was a master performer—he had got everyone who loved him completely snowed.
But the stage was mine now. And when the curtain fell, I'd get applause from him—along with the entire Matthews family.
If it weren't for Patrica's arrival, the atmosphere in the room might've actually felt cozy and harmonious.
The sight of her made Elwood's stomach drop.
Everyone's eyes shifted, sizing up this young woman who'd appeared out of thin air with puzzled curiosity.
Patrica jumped in with an introduction. "Hi, I'm Elwood's friend—hope you don't mind me showing up unannounced."
That said, she slid right up next to Elwood on the couch, pressing in uncomfortably close.
The move drew frowns all around, but no one uttered a word—they just exchanged knowing glances.
"It's fine, dear—relax and feel at home."
Sandra offered a couple of courteous remarks before changing the subject. "Justine, you and Elwood should hurry up and schedule those wedding photos. You're such a perfect match; they'll come out beautifully."
I opened my mouth to reply, but Patrica beat me to it, her tone dripping with sly mockery.
"Justine, how'd you like those pics I sent over the other night?"
"What pics?" Elwood asked, startled.
"Well, Justine is about to walk down the aisle, so I picked out some stunning wedding gown shots just for her. What else would they be? Elwood and I in the wee hours..."
As she rambled on without a care, Elwood quickly slapped a hand over her mouth to shut her up.
But Patrica just shot a flirty wink at the room.
The silence was deafening.
By now, I'd become desensitized to this nonsense. The others' expressions were a mix of hilarious discomfort, yet nobody stepped in to stop it.
They all chose to ignore the blatant flirting unfolding right in front of them.
After all, Elwood was their grandson, nephew, brother...
Me? I was still the outsider.
"Elwood's a good kid deep down. That head injury means he's not always himself these days. You two have history—sometimes turning a blind eye is what keeps the family together and things humming along."
The message between the lines was obvious: give the poor car crash survivor a break.
"Yeah, you're right," I agreed with a nod.
The family gathering, now thoroughly soured, finally wound down after another hour.
Patrica leaned in to murmur something in Elwood's ear—couldn't catch it—and the two of them rushed off in a flurry.
I said my goodbyes to Sandra and was about to call a cab home when my WhatsApp pinged with a message.
[Underground parking garage]
An invitation to watch the show, eh?
Who was I to turn it down?
The elevator hit B2—the private parking level for the house—echoing and empty, save for a single Maybach.
The same one Elwood and I had ridden in.
Now, its back door was wide open, and the whole car was shaking violently.
No need to guess what was happening inside.
A pang still hit my chest; clearly, I needed a little more time to fully process this betrayal.
After checking that no one else was around, I opened my camera, found a solid angle, took a few photos, then figured it was easier to just record a video instead.
A spectacle this juicy? I couldn't hog it all to myself—I'd have to share it with those relatives and friends from earlier, so they could appreciate Elwood's "heroic" performance in action.
It wasn't long before I snuck off just as quietly as I'd shown up.
My legs had gone numb from all that standing, and I wasn't in any rush to get home. I decided to hop on a bus instead, just to clear my mind—didn't matter where it was headed.
But no bus came along. What did roll up was that oh-so-familiar Maybach.
Patrica was at the wheel.
She pulled up to the curb and rolled down the window.