My Fiancé Fed Her My Dog Chapter 1

At the party, my fiancé lost the drinking game.

I asked him, for the tenth time, where my dog had actually gone.

He didn’t answer. Instead, his "girl best friend," Bridget, leaned across the table to bail him out.

"I ate him, Norma," she said, her voice dripping with a lazy, drunken giggle. "Honestly, you raised him so well. The meat wasn't tough at all."

She flashed a bright, mocking smile. "Look, it’s just a dog, right? Tomorrow is your wedding. Why don't we have Justin dress up as a puppy to make it up to you? Consider the debt settled."

The room erupted into a chorus of raucous laughter.

Bridget laughed so hard she practically collapsed into Justin's chest, her hand trailing down his collarbone. "You guys have no idea. When Justin plays the good boy, he’s absolutely adorable."

Among the drunken roars, someone threw out a crude joke.

* * *

"How does he play dog for you, Bridget? Does he wear a collar? Or does he get down on all fours and lick your hand?"

Bridget's eyes lit up. She grabbed the speaker’s tie, pulling him close. "You dirty dog, you just want all the details tonight, don't you?"

The guy, clearly wasted, challenged her. "Come on, rock-paper-scissors! If you lose, you have to tell us exactly how sweet Justin is when he’s begging."

Bridget’s cheeks flushed pink. She grinned and threw her hand out.

More cheers. More drunken shouting.

Suddenly, Bridget shrieked, "Damn it! I actually lost to you!"

The group leaned in, reeking of cheap beer and expensive champagne, swaying on their feet.

"Spill! Spill! How does he do it? How sweet is Justin when he's on his knees?"

The men roared. Bridget opened her mouth to speak, but a large hand clamped over her lips, pulling her back against a broad chest.

"Cut it out," Justin said, his voice low but firm. "You've had too much to drink. Stop making those kinds of jokes."

The room went quiet, though eyes continued to dart back and forth. Some of the guys exchanged whispered chuckles, sharing a silent, knowing look that excluded me entirely.

I stood up and grabbed Bridget’s arm, pulling her wobbly, drunken frame upright.

She looked at me, a sloppy grin spreading across her face. "Norma... what's the matter? Want to know the details too?"

The next second, a deafening crash shattered the tension.

Someone in the back yelled, "Holy shit!"

Bridget hit the floor hard. A pool of blood and spilled champagne began to snake across the tile, glittering under the dim bar lights.

Justin’s eyes went wide, the alcohol instantly draining from his system. He threw himself onto the floor, pressing his hands against her bleeding temple.

"Call 911! Get an ambulance!" he screamed, his voice cracking. Then he glared up at me, his face twisted in fury. "Are you fucking insane, Norma? A blow to the head could kill her!"

I didn't blink. I picked up the last unbroken champagne bottle from the table, pointing the jagged neck directly at his face.

"Tell me," I whispered, my voice trembling but cold. "How did my dog end up in her mouth?"