Page 32 of Unravelling: Aria & Crispin
"Please join me in congratulating Thomas Ashcroft's well-deserved promotion as our newly appointed chief operating officer."
Polite applause. Crispin nodded, forced a smile.
Good. That's it.
But she wasn't done.
"And," she said, raising her voice slightly, "there's more."
Her eyes were on him with a determined glint.
He blinked.
No. No, she wouldn't-
"Crispin has asked Helga to be his wife."
What?
The applause was immediate.
Someone whistled and a camera flashed. Helga dabbed at the corner of her mouth with a napkin like someone humbly receiving a crown.
Crispin's heart hammered.
His eyes weren't on Helga, they were on her. What was she thinking? Did she believe this? Of course, she did.
Aria sat frozen, lips slightly parted, hands hidden in her lap.
She hadn't moved, but her expression said it all.
Shattered.
He tried to catch her eye, willed her to look at him.
But she didn't.
A tear slid down her cheek.
She wiped it away with a napkin, quick and quiet. But he saw it. Of course he saw it.
He couldn't breathe.
Around him, conversation resumed. Wineglasses raised. Helga leaned closer, brushing his hand with hers like it meant something. He firmly pushed her hand away with disgust colouring his expression.
And Aria... Aria sat across from him with the poise of a statue carved from grief.
He felt like he was dying.
He watched as all the actors in this macabre play looked at her.
His mother, smug.
His father, calm and victorious.
Helga, gleaming and cold.
Alice, softly devastated.
