The stolen dress.

Something wasn’t right.

I looked at Vanessa.

“Why did you really steal the gown?”

Her mouth opened.

Nothing came out.

“Vanessa.”

She looked toward Mother.

That was all I needed.

“Why?”

Vanessa’s face tightened.

“She said Dad left something inside it.”

The ballroom seemed to tilt.

“What?”

“She said you had sewn one of Dad’s belongings into the dress.”

“The tie.”

“She didn’t know what it was.”

I turned slowly toward Mother.

“You didn’t care about embarrassing me.”

Mother said nothing.

“The dress wasn’t the point.”

Vanessa looked sick.

“She told me you had probably hidden something inside the lining.”

My hand went to my waist.

Dad’s blue fabric.

Except—

No.

It couldn’t be.

I remembered the envelope.

FOR CLAIRE.

ONLY IF IT HAPPENS.

My father had known something might happen.

But what?

He had been dead five years.

He couldn’t have predicted a wedding dress.

Unless—

I looked toward Sofia.

“My original dress.”

She nodded toward Vanessa.

“Check the inside.”

Vanessa stared at me.

“What?”

“The blue fabric.”

She reached into the bodice.

Her fingers searched.

Then stopped.

Her expression changed.

“There’s something here.”

Mother moved.

Fast.

So fast Adrian barely caught her.

She lunged toward Vanessa.

“Give it to me!”

The room exploded again.

Adrian wrapped an arm around Mother as two security guards rushed forward.

Vanessa backed away, terrified.

“What is this?”

“Open the seam,” I said.

My designer had sewn the blue silk into the inner corset.

Vanessa pulled at the stitching.

Nothing.

One of Adrian’s groomsmen handed her a pocketknife.

Thirty seconds later, she tore open the tiny seam.

A narrow strip of Dad’s blue tie emerged.

Wrapped inside it was something hard.

Metal.

Vanessa shook it into her palm.

A key.

Mother stopped fighting.

Her entire body went still.

That frightened me more than anything.

Vanessa stared at the object.

“What does it open?”

Mother whispered, “Nothing.”

I looked at Adrian.

He was already reaching for his phone.

Then I remembered.

Dad had rented a private deposit box at Hudson Trust Bank for decades.

After his death, Mother said it had been closed.

But the blue tag attached to the key carried three numbers.

417.

I knew them.

My father’s birthday.

April 17.

My heart hammered.

“Dad’s deposit box.”

Mother closed her eyes.

Vanessa stared at her.

“You knew.”

No answer.

“You knew the key was inside Claire’s dress.”

Mother’s face collapsed.

Vanessa laughed.

But this time there was no arrogance in it.

Only devastation.

“You didn’t help me steal the dress because you loved me.”

“Vanessa—”

“You used me.”

“I was protecting you.”

“From what?”

Mother screamed the answer.

“FROM HIM!”

Everyone froze.

My mother pointed at the screen.

“At Richard.

At your precious father.”

Vanessa stared at her.

“He wasn’t my father, remember?”

Mother flinched.

Vanessa’s voice broke.

“But apparently he was more of a parent to me than you ever were.”

Mother slapped her.

The sound cracked through the ballroom.

Adrian’s security guards seized her arms.

Vanessa stood perfectly still.

A red mark appeared across her cheek.