My Fiancé Let Her Ruin Our Wedding but Insisted It Was Just a Joke novel · Chapter 17 of 24

Chapter 17: The List

Colt's gym was a long white room with mirrors on three walls and a banner that said LIVE LOUDER.

At six on Friday morning it held forty people in bright leggings and tank tops, and a ring light on a tripod.

Colt stood on a low platform with a headset mic, shirtless, with a counter in the corner of the room showing how many were watching him on his channel.

Nine thousand.

I walked in the front door with Jenna beside me, and nobody noticed for a full song.

Tobias was in the car out front.

I had told him to stay, and he had.

Jenna wore a gym hoodie and carried a tote bag.

She had told me the plan in the parking lot, in a whisper.

Colt left his phone on the speaker shelf during class, face up, for the music.

The shelf was ten feet from the door.

"I'll go left," she said. "You keep him looking at you."

"That's all?"

"That's all I'm good for," said Jenna, and went.

I walked down the middle of the room.

A woman in the second row saw me first, and her squat stopped halfway.

"Is that her?" she whispered.

"Keep going!" yelled Colt, with his back to me. "Burn it! Five more!"

I stepped up onto the end of the platform.

"Good morning, Colt."

He turned.

The color went out of his face and then came back in a rush.

"Darcy," he said, smiling for the camera. "What a surprise. Everybody, this is Darcy."

The class stopped.

Forty faces turned in the mirrors.

"I'd like to ask your members something," I said. "Do you mind?"

"This is a closed class."

"It's a public gym."

I took the headset mic off its stand, the second one, the guest one, and switched it on.

Colt reached for it, and a very large man in the front row said quietly, "Let her talk, man."

Colt let his hand fall.

"My name is Darcy Bradfield," I said, and the speakers carried it to every corner. "Some of you have seen me on Colt's channel. I'm the woman from the veil."

Nobody whispered.

"Colt has a list," I said. "It's in his phone. It's dated, and it's numbered, and it has two hundred and thirteen lines. Every line is a person he filmed being hurt."

"That's a lie."

"Then show them."

"I don't have to show anybody anything."

"I'd like to know what the first line says," I said. "Would you read the first line to your class?"

"I'm not doing this."

"Jenna?" I said.

She was at the speaker shelf, with Colt's phone in both hands.

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