Early the next morning.
The golf tournament was set to begin at nine.
Carla, Swain, and Slater set out together, chatting and laughing along the way, and arrived at the club's entrance by half past eight.
As they prepared to get out of the car, Swain suddenly spoke up.
"Carla, your brother will be cheering you on from the sidelines today. Do your best out there. I have something I need to take care of."
"Alright," Carla replied softly.
Her eyes dimmed, disappointment clear on her face, but she nodded obediently, trying to seem understanding.
"Go ahead, Swain. I'll do my best on the course."
There had been plenty of times before when Swain was too busy to pay her any attention, and each time, Carla responded just like this—disappointed, but still sweet and accommodating. Usually, seeing her like this would soften Swain's heart, and he'd end up giving in to her requests.
Carla assumed today would be no different.
"Okay. Good luck," Swain said quietly, and then, without another word or glance her way, he remained seated in the car.
Carla froze, thrown off by his indifference.
She hesitated before finally stepping out, but Swain didn't move or try to comfort her. Instead, he signaled to the driver to shut the door and soon the car was gone.
Carla's heart dropped.
She lowered her head and followed Slater, her steps slow and heavy, a shadow cast over her eyes.
She'd spent the whole morning trying to please Swain, but although he'd smiled at her, his attitude had been distant—barely making conversation, clearly not wanting to be bothered.
And now, even at the entrance to the tournament, he hadn't bothered to come in with her.
Carla was deeply upset. The guilt she'd felt about plotting with Edwin against the Rutledge Group—guilt that had gnawed at her since the impulsive decision—vanished entirely.
Swain would pay for the way he'd treated her today.
But Slater was still with her, so she kept up her mask of innocence, careful not to let any cracks show. Swain was already growing distant; she couldn't afford to let Slater turn against her too, or she'd be left with no one to rely on.
Inside, they parted ways—Carla headed down the players' corridor while Slater joined the spectators.
Ten minutes later, the tournament began.
As the first golfer teed off, Slater found himself growing bored almost immediately. He'd never realized before just how tedious watching a tournament could be—there was nothing to see, nothing to do, and no one to talk to.

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The readers' comments on the novel: Watching You Burn In Regret
Why is it stopped at 69.. please update...
Lovin' this!...