Holden sniffed, making it sound like he was barely holding it together. “You were right, Mom. Something awful happened to my wife. She… she’s gone. She died.”
I could hear Charlene’s sharp intake of breath from where I sat, lounging on the couch. Holden had her hooked.
“What?! No! Holden, no!” she cried, her voice immediately rising in panic. “What do you mean? How could this happen?!”
Holden cleared his throat, trying to sound as mournful as possible. “It just… it happened so suddenly. You said it yourself, she wasn’t the right match, and now… now she’s gone.”
Charlene wailed on the other end, her voice cracking. “Oh, God! This is all my fault! I never meant for any of this! I—”
“Mom,” Holden interrupted, “I need you to come over. Right now. Please.”
“I’m coming! I’m coming right now!” Charlene screamed. Then the line went dead.
I looked over at Holden, who was trying his best to stifle a laugh. “She bought it,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief.
I raised an eyebrow at Holden as he tossed his phone onto the table. “You’re a natural,” I said, barely holding back my grin.
I kicked my feet up on the coffee table, perfectly calm and alive, waiting for the show to begin. “Of course she did. Let’s see how she handles this little plot twist.”
An hour later, we heard the front door slam open. Charlene burst into the living room like a whirlwind, mascara streaking down her cheeks, eyes wild with panic.
“Where is she?! What happened to her?!” she shrieked, looking around frantically like she expected to find me laid out in a coffin, draped in black.
But instead, there I was, sitting on the couch, sipping tea, and scrolling through my phone like it was just another casual Saturday morning.
Her eyes locked on me, and the color drained from her face. She froze, her mouth hanging open as her brain tried to process what she was seeing. At first, she looked confused, like she couldn’t believe her eyes. And then it clicked.
She’d been played.
I raised my teacup, giving her a little smirk. “Morning, Charlene. You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Charlene’s hands flew to her mouth. “But… but… you—” she stammered.
Holden stood up and faced her, his expression cold and unyielding. “You should think before you open your mouth, Mom. “You thought that your little ‘widow’ stunt would magically make her disappear?”
Charlene blinked, her brain trying to catch up. “I-I didn’t mean for it to—” She stopped herself, choking on her words.
“Didn’t mean for what?” Holden snapped, stepping forward. “For me to think my wife was dead? For you to go on national TV and say she was gone, just so you could start shopping for a replacement?”
“I was just trying to help you, Holden!” Charlene cried, her hands trembling. “You deserve better! You deserve someone who can give you—”
“No.” Holden’s voice was cold, his eyes hard as steel. “You crossed a line, Mom. A big one.”
Charlene’s lips quivered. “I just wanted what’s best for you! She’s—”
“She’s my wife,” Holden said, cutting her off. “And if you can’t respect that, if you can’t respect me, then you and I are done.”
Charlene’s eyes widened, her whole body trembling. “I-I didn’t mean for any of this! You don’t understand—”
“Oh, I understand perfectly,” Holden said, his voice sharp as a knife. “You wanted to control me. Control us. But here’s the thing — you don’t get to decide my life. I do.”
Charlene started to speak again, but Holden silenced her with a cold glare. “And if you ever pull a stunt like this again, I’ll be the one going on TV… looking for a new mother. One who actually respects me.”
The room fell silent.
Charlene’s face crumpled as she realized just how badly she’d messed up. She looked at me, then back at Holden, her lips trembling like she wanted to say something — anything — that could fix this.
But it was too late.
Without another word, Charlene turned on her heel and stumbled out the door, her sobs echoing down the hall.
I let out a low whistle, shaking my head. “Well, that was… something.”
Holden sat down next to me, rubbing his temples. “I can’t believe she did that.”
I chuckled, handing him my cup of tea. “Well, at least she knows now. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes.”
He took the tea, staring out the window. Then, with a half-smile, he turned to me and said, “Maybe next time, we’ll throw a real funeral. For her delusions.”